A man emerged br from a wall br br stood there halfway in br & halfway out br br froze when he saw me: br br “Sorry! ” he said br “I’m not used to being dead! ” br br “And it’s hard br To get use to this br br kind of travel.” br br “Usually only br little kids notice me & smile.” br br “Ask their Mams if they can go play br with the man in the wall! ” br br “And their Mams give them a smack br br and say don’t do that...you’re freaking me out! ” br br “Ouch! ” br the kids say. br br “I’m a poet! ” br I explained. br br “Ahhh...that would explain br it! ” br He laughed. br br “You’re just as likely br to make me up br even if I didn’t exist.” br br “It’s odd to exist on this br level of non-existence! ” br br “I’m sure you will br get used to it in time.” br br br “Oh...I’m sure I will...I will br but Time is so immaterial to me now! ” br br “Just need a little more br practice at being a ghost.! ” br br “Listen...could ya be a real pal br and pull me outta this wall! ” br br “I’m very betwixt br & between br br at the moment.! ” br br I asked him br if he would like to go br br and have br a cappuccino. br br So we sat br at an outside table br br (it was such a lovely day) br br he & me. br br He living his death br I living my dying. br People saw me br talking and gesticulating br br to br my br self br br but they passed br it off br br thinking br I was br br a poet.