the ghost on the hill

Young boy with a crown of thorns
lanky like you
lean and aloof
white skull glaring out
closer and closer
he walked
like a ghost
Can it be you?
Big brother to the bewildered
and the blushing
Verifier of Verse
Protector of Prose
Emperor of Imagery
King of keeping the door
Locked and Toweled
How is it, my friend, that you
reappear
Ready to ride into the wind
My imagination cutting the bush
Out of our way!
Move aside ye Beasts of Below
Brendan is coming through!
Where do you come from sir?
Your swagger and sway when my mind is at peace?
Did you float in from Connecticut
on the diamond dish of the moon?
Or flap from far away
flashing your awkward smile at the breeze.

At ease soldier
Take your leave
For it is deceiving
to appear
as if back on the front lines
buying wine
and soaking in it
bread for skin
changing purple
in the night sky.
You and I
parted ways
but you haunt all my days still.