there have been a few ghosts

following me

I can hear them

singing

in misty alleyways

and I know

sometimes whiskey

makes the ears want more

from the wind than it can give

but the heart beats better

to hymns

and these memories are dying

to give rhythm to my limbs

I know they are ghosts

because they all share

the same voice

me, oh, my,

whiskey plays its tricks

on the ears

on the mind

and I hear that song

you would sing

when you wanted to dream

but couldn't fall asleep