ghost smells

Musty-trusty scents

ensconced in ancient boards,

a store less clientele

or else they're all gone

underground-

traveling cracks

trailing through warped glass

behind which lies

dust of decades passed

expired deadlines

on old documents

and pieces of

city life that was

webs in corners-

spidery residents

watching as we brave

the broken boards

of a sidewalk long rolled-up

rays beating flesh

bleaching wood and stone

baking our shadows-

weathered leather

against warm brick walls

breathing the ghost smells

meeting nobody else

inhaling the particles

of a people lost-

perhaps they observe

'round ruined facades

or crumbling chimneys

lonesome in empty lots

as we, like everyone else,

take our leave.