Ghosts In The Window

Standing there,
alone and surrounded,
with the slosh of tea
sounding loud above the music

he wonders

if really, those ghosts
in the glass
with the headlights
shining through them

are people

and it is those
on this warm side
of the pane who
are the ghosts

standing, alone

he felt himself
without substance
giving the lie
to a full belly

looking up,
staring into hollow eyes
frozen to be noticed
he stops breathing

he, the ghost, blinked first.