Babe floated around, a ghost in Central Park,
cursed to find purpose at the place of her last breath.
She laughed as a lady gasped and a dog barked.
A couple, clad in leather, exchanged remarks.
Watching them from the trees took all of Babe’s strength.
Their gazes met and their thighs touched, creating sparks.
The woman laughed, begging the man to leave his mark.
They didn’t notice Babe, who snarled with stealth
as she floated, a ghost in Central Park.
People stumbled by, but she hid behind soft bark.
Many voices seemed near. She was wreathed
in dust, a ghost in Central Park.
She floated around, a ghost in Central Park.
Her wish was to disappear, not by death,
but to sing melodies with the larks.
Instead, Babe found herself somewhere dark,
numb but otherwise in good health
as she floated like ghost in Central Park.
Babe wanted to be someone—or something—else.