Just a Ghost

That is how I felt... oh, yeah, before going along further, today's rant is canned, I've headed off to find a hidey hole to winter over in. By the time I get back, if I come back (hey, I might enjoy being alone for the next while)... okay, back on track here..

Just a ghost, something few saw, and when they did, horror and fear came to their eyes, mostly.

I could walk along, and unless you were overly fearful, few would stop to offer aid, ask questions, or even nod, wave, or return the hello's and howdy's I gave, tipping my hat or nodding my head to indicate I still saw you all.

Hell, holding a sign, once, I had someone bitch about me trying to get their attention... over their gas cap still sitting on the trunk before they lost it. (Thankfully, an off duty cop saw why, and kept the heat off me, thanks to that officer, even if he thought I did not know about it.)

Dropping all those job apps, all any one remembers is the lesser amounts of time I spent playing a few games to distract my mind from the waiting, not the number of times I had job boards open, or worked on stories between filing applications, as a back up plan to getting a job.

Few remember the times me and my running mate gave helpful directions around town, expressed interest in events going on, and gave directions to events that failed to lay out some decent signage (a Certain runners' event comes to mind, when as a joke for other homeless, we held up our notebooks as if flying a sign, giving the directions to the registration desk...)

Few remember those three times we changed out flat tires, the kid we talked out of her little escapade of running away, thinking the streets better than a foster home, or the times we carried others gear for them when they were injured or just not well.

We were ghosts, to be exorcised from society, evil spirits, one and all, in the eyes of most.

And now, I am a new kind of ghost, one that talks from beyond the bounds you set, just leaving the last bits of my efforts I was willing to share out there... on my blogs... for one last dig at those who feared me.

My biggest regret is still this. That my two BEST poems never really took off. One just a tale of something fun and beautiful, which really did happen, the other a social commentary that actually said thanks for the help you gave to others around me. Those were Deerboy on a Bicycle and You Gave Them Keys, respectively. I pointed out when folks did wrong, tried to remain a good member of society, only to be scoffed at.

I could not care less, now. I accept that I am a ghost to you, just vapors most wish to wave their hands through to disperse... but like a ghost, I hope I haunt you. Even now, just days after leaving, you see my words echoing across the ether of cables and wifi, still tickling along, still teasing you to see me... as I walk away into some piece of forlorn land, not to die, but to regroup, and maybe become corporeal again.

Then again, maybe I was always a ghost, a figment of ecto-plasm that never took on flesh. And thus others felt that doing me ill was fine, as I was not real.

>shrug<

I don't know. I only care about one thing. Keep looking for the beauty in the world around you, and do good deeds just to do them, not for fame or adulation. And be at peace, for the aroma of pipe smoke might remind you of the words I once wove, like previous generations found it evoking fond memories of grandfathers long gone.