for Karen

Like a journey to a graceful shack
you walk on a crooked roof
dark as a black pit and finally white,
carefully, tip-toe, tip-toe.
All white, a body floating toward you
with a glad expression.
It has to be a dream, you think.
In a flash, no more white, no more body.
Loneliness, like a mirror in the distance,
staring directly at you.
You look down at your pale white hands.
You're sinking far down. That's not me.
A widening smile spreads
across the girl's face.
And then, way up in the sky, too far up,
into space --choking, not breathing.
You open your eyes, and the rooftop --
the old crooked rooftop.
Are you yourself again?
No, still a ghost.
A pleasant smile on the girl,
who switched places with you.
You grip her hand tightly
and she groans,
electricity between your hands.
You look down at your
flesh-colored hands with relief.
White lights flash in front of you.
I've seen that girl before, you say.
A cry like a voice
of a child you remember.
You look into the mirror and
see a familiar face smiling back at you.