and as children the three of us would build those kind of forts you make with blankets and chairs backed into each other; tunnels added with use of those tv tray tables that grandma gave us the previous christmas.
there was one flashlight shared between us, and we would pass it off to each other when it was our turn to tell our version of a scary story. sometimes we would lie on our backs, our feet outstretched and poking a little outside of our suburban campsite.
the light and shadow casts would play in-between the crinkles and bends in the blankets, and we would point out shapes as if they were a ghostly set of clouds before us.
our parents were all in the front room, music playing loudly and their drunken laughter competing with the sound. sometimes i would try to incorporate the songs into my story, ghosts carved out of fleetwood mac and joni mitchell lyrics overheard.
sometimes i wish we had written them all down.
happy october.
"i need twice as much space
and half as many things
a well written verse that i can sing
twice as much space
and a new set of strings
these are the ghosts i made myself ."
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