it used to be
a glass of whiskey
was all that was needed
to put ghosts to sleep
but whiskey
an old dear friend
just isn’t up to the task
anymore
and I am beyond that crutch
now I face these old ghosts
and we converse
I listen to the old laments
the missed opportunities
the things not said
a hand not held
and commiserate
for one day
I too will be an old ghost
with my own regrets to tell
to whatever poor soul
awake at night
who will listen
and then I too
will grow drowsy
and fall asleep
after unburdening my sins
like these old ghosts
these friends of mine
who slumber around me
at peace for one more day
until night falls again
and their minds get working
reliving those past transgressions
omissions
that they need to recant
once again
to me
-
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Leonard Durso 
I always get much from reading your poems, Leonard. The other side of this poem is that your ghosts are out roaming right now, while you’re not thinking of them, ushering in someone else’s sleepless moments, and another’s, and after all what do you know about them except that they are you? [note: as usual, leaving a comment on this blog inevitably leads to additional writing for me. Which means, I think, I just summoned yet another ghost of you into this world.]
As for additional writing for you, that can only be a good thing, no?
As for another ghost for me, it’s inevitable.
By the way, my amazon shipment came yesterday and I now own a hard copy of goat lies down on broadway. Very nice.
Ha! Talk about ghosts! Please treat that goat with kid gloves!
I’ll try, as long as he stops eyeing my cat and licking his lips.
Nicely done!
Thanks.
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