ghost dance

Your great-grandson told me
that if you look for a ghost,
it will stop following you.

Does that mean
I'm looking for you all the time?
Because I don't feel you near
though I crave you,
want you in my fingers as I type.

Are you here? With a wry smile
for my daily routine,
a scratch ticket for the kids
when they finish their schoolwork,

I can imagine you here.
Elbows on my kitchen table,
leaning in to judge a picture
or a spelling list, you'd talk
to them about what they like.

Stay up late with me, 
beer and my notebook between us.
Let's talk about writing,
working, loss and heartache.
Let me kiss you.

I want you so badly. Maybe 
on his advice I'll stop looking, and
we can walk together the rest of the way.