Our Halloween masks reflected back
as we peer through that dusty glass
into the quiet gloom of the Ghost Café

If only the ghost waitress would take our order
‘large or small?’ she asks, well, I’m a medium
ghost chairs dragged across the ghost floor

And the clank of local steel set down
on delicately painted porcelain
bustling echoes bounce from peeling walls

People starting or restarting their little days
someone is eating, someone staring into space
someone there in spirit only

The tangled bead curtain splashes
each time the burly ghost chef passes
Chip-and-PIN fickle again as always

Unopened letters collect behind rusted shutters
a thick dust settles on every spout
Ghost landlord longs to collect the ghost rent

We keep our distance, don’t touch a thing
we stay at home, say ‘what a shame
nobody in the ghost café again’

The Ghost Café serves a passing trade
ghost shops, ghost pubs, the local haunts
ghost banks and ghost galleries

The Ghost Café looked alive for a moment
spectres flickering in the gutted ruins
another empty space now up for sale...
 

[2020]