ghost ride the whip

another house party hosted by whatsherface 

another lacklustre Saturday chauffeuring you

around rooms of architecturally handsome faces

but tonight I’m cloaked

each word I utter is a haunting 

met with a second-sucking  startle

before being relegated to the conversation’s footnotes 

so I saunter between gossiping huddles

like a watermark on the evening

while you accompany me – moonbright & dancing –

pulling in promiscuous glances from boys 

carrying themselves with quiet thunder 

I hold your hand while leaving

solid enough to steer us home

but not enough to leave my fingerprints

on your memory of the evening