A ghost at 10:30 on a cold morning
Stands on the memory of
His left foot since he can no longer
Remember his right one clearly.
He thinks he was fond of it
But it's no use; he only manifestS
What he recalls precisely.
(It's fortunate he stared so much
In mirrors; he'd feel foolish with no nose.)
He hops off, stopping at corners,
Waiting for lights to turn green
Though what harm could cars do him now?
Since he can't recall why he's come back
He begs forgiveness from everyone he sees
Who's wearing a hat; he forgives the hatless
Unless they also wear gloves in which case
He whispers "Some things cannot be forgiven!"
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