Call it coincidence that tonight I'm remotely haunting old school halls; a half-sleepwalk in dated clothes against an empty stage. I know that there's no ghosts but it sometimes seems like an awful lot of detail goes to waste - when I could pace the parquetry and rearrange the seats into the shapes they used to be. I could pace the parquetry on Halloween and only some would see. Another roaming ground of choice; the stubborn shoulders squared on heaving streets where I once turned sideways, making myself thin by breathing in. Let them shiver from the chill of a gloating spectre floating unabated A to B. Maybe be they could shudder from it on Halloween, so I'll fall off curbs no more. Oh Halloween, lay bear traps on my bedroom floor.