I'll read a couple more little haunted
poems if I can find them in here.
It's called "Spirit of Black Tuesday."
"The sun spies on me through the keyhole.
Nettle boned and bereft, I eat money like bread.
The light socket has two faces that represent one emotion.
I incur wrath like an ink and mask.
Mr., give me your blurry coat of caffeine.
Promise a mote of molasses to drink.
Shine these shoes to knives.
Sell me back my piggy bank."