If I turn out to be a quiet ghost it will be against my will
For I mean to be loud, rattling dishes and, if the mood is on me,
Throwing chairs down the hall. I suppose there may be days
When I look wistfully from an old picture hoping
Someone wrote my name on the back or when I stand
Near your chair and tell you how to move your bishop
(You'll be wise then to ignore me; my brother's advice
Or, better yet, my grandfather Joe's, would be sounder).
But, on the whole, you might start looking now on Angie's List
For a competent exorcist. He'll overcharge but you
Will probably think him worth it. Also, don't forget
To burn paper money at my grave and to spit beans
While banging pots during the Lemuralia each May.
We're not Chinese nor are we Roman, but it can't hurt.
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