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Mad Dawg and Mel's

By Carrie Carlson

Madeline came and sat at our booth

as we were finishing our feast,

mopping up the last bit of chili sauce

with our french fries.

She knew we knew the recent events

and relaxed against the back the booth,

the lunch rush at an end,

pleasurably tired.

I felt something subtle at my knee;

ignored it.

She yawned "It's been quiet here all day,

ghost-wise, no hide and seek with hardware,

no doors locking on their own,

no hot chocolates ringing up on the

cash register, out of the blue,

trying to give us a hint."

That subtle something at my knee poked me.

As I peeked under she peeked up,

the dark-haired little ghost girl,

dead lo these many years,

still playing hide and seek, giggling.