conversation;
can you see them
in your aging faces,
where is the ghost
of your parents?
I sat and listened
as two women
slowly derailed into
stories of college-ja vu
and the sag of necks.
I will never understand
the moments of
my stance is like hers
my jaw droops like his.
They are forever in time
smooth of skin, they
who aren't them at all
the ghost of my face
but the ghosts of them.
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