Walking alongside
the ghosts of adolescent memories
preserved like so many
Pompeii corpses

in back lanes
alley ways
parks
and cemeteries
as though no time has passed.

Holding the hand of the girl
who learned fear and compliance
at the hands
of so many entitled jerks

“It’s ok”
I whisper to her
“I’m here now.”

“Together
we can kick ‘em in the shins
and run

to the underground dance party
where our people
shine
in their white singlets, nipples erect, freak flags flying high…”

My ghosts, they smile,
tears in their young wide eyes
as they squeeze my hand
and nod
with the certainty they always deserved.

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