grandma/ghosts

real love is saying a prayer for your children

whoever they may be

i ain't no christian

i ain't got no children so

my prayers are for my family, friends, and all the other fuckheads in the world

and for my health so i can keep loving them all

it's really weird to think about people watching us on earth...i'm talking about dead people watching over us living beings down here. what must they think? ...we cretins. so unholy.

i know my grandma watches me! it's weird to think about it. i don't care if she sees me in the bathtub or whatever but sometimes i wonder how she gets her kicks. there ain't no philedelphia cream cheese cloud to bounce around on all day up there; they must be doing something with all that time. the old with the young, the ferals with the nuns, even the little unborn fetuses going wild with the non-stop peep show entertainment below. billions of eyes sweeping earth right at this very moment. i'm not exactly scared but...

...where do ghosts draw the line ethically? is there a clause they have to sign when they cross over (certainly not presented by an old white-bearded-lord-of-the-rings-guy with a clipboard, but still- a clause nonetheless) stipulating NO rights to watching masturbation? how about wife beating? or male model showering? or, more applicably, those long hours one sits on a couch in stained sweatpants eating cold pizza off their stomachs, belching into the pages of magazines, occasionally checking their phones to see if someone sexually desirable has phoned (by the way, they still haven't)?

my grandma told me the first thing she did every day when she arose ever so slow and stiff was say a prayer for me. every day. we were soul twins. she told me this shyly and never looking at me, her voice was soft and croaky, a bit playful. to those who didn't know her, reserved. i was loud and clear. we had different dispositions, but a striking physical resemblance: the height, the heavy breasts, the long dark hair and navy blue eyes, the turned in knees. those family familiar traits in the mirror every day. as i age each year it is so incredibly lovely.

the last thing she did before she went to sleep at night was say a prayer for me.

i thank her now. i've been avoiding her death for years. death is elusive for me. i believe in ghosts in the room right now. no one's floated up and grabbed me by the scruff of the neck but i've seen the outlines, felt the air cool around me, and once, a candle snuffed itself before my eyes. at night, conjuring something weird with a friend, the animals were restless and quickly left us with their tails tucked low. it was not fear i felt but a confirmation that there is something there. that dumb old boo radley of a word: spooky.

always. watching me and you. so pull up those socks and say a little prayer.