The Black Ghosts

A Boastful Poem by Robert McEvily



It's pouring
So she goes into a strange restaurant
And asks for garbage bags
And everyone laughs
But she gets what she wants
And we put them over our heads
And cover our bodies
And look like ghosts
(Like black ghosts)
And we make eye holes
And run off in the pouring rain
And haunt those who can't think differently.