Searching for a Ghost

by Aries Cid

The perfect locale:

outside this mansion,

across the ghost town

are phantasmal graves

with spirits unbound;

the perfect weather:

an overcast night,

striking keraunoús,

and a biting squall

where psyches are soothed;

and the perfect prep:

a half-pint raincoat,

a humble flashlight,

and human-made snacks

for shadows so bright.

But it’s confounding;

upon departing,

I descry myself

sleeping on red rain,

remaining unfelt.