JJ died at the corner of Putnam and Magazine

I walk through her ghost when I lug groceries back and

pass the vines of fake flowers wound tightly up the post

Struck by a truck at 27

she was a light,

tacky pink and yellow scream against winter white

I learned years ago

every time you walk through a ghost

you sneeze

Though I think to encounter a ghost

is more like getting the hiccups

A poltergeist can pounce as a paroxysm

or ebb into your purview

Always lingering and rattling your core

On move-in day, I saw Kendhall in a tree

above H-Yard threaded by the frenetic energy

of a fresh semester

He sat on a limb

waved, swayed

feet kicking over the din

So I laid down on the dirty ground

and watched him watch me.