It’s important to know the difference

between being invisible

and being a ghost. As a child

I passed through so many walls

before my mother corrected me.

I’d sit up straight at the table,

eat my fried chicken, put the bucket

on my head and pretend to be a lamp.

The smell of the chicken passed through the walls.

It wasn’t a ghost, but it did haunt my clothes.

It was also contagious, even more so than hunger.

I never slept. At night

I’d poke enough holes in my head

to create the effect of stars on the ceiling.

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