You're a ghost in the middle of the road,
your arms stretched wide like floating flimsy fences
but no-one's stopped or even slowed
cause their headlights shine through your defences.
Although your stance is solid and static
your image seems to follow my every turn.
I try to shake you off, driving erratic
at a speed so swift it makes my stomach churn.
Your sturdy chin is held so high aloft
with your reproachful glare meeting my eye.
Your broken and battered features so soft
I have a sudden urge to swerve and die.
Instead, I sharply pound at my break
and get out to examine your remains;
upon discovering you're still awake
the guilt that had fueled me slowly wains.
So I abandoned my car and began to pace
and never again sought a ghost's affection.
Not until I got home did my heart race
when I saw your corpse in my reflection.
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