Compensations

[rowens]

                                         Compensations


I think it's nice how the wind is blowing,
like something out of a movie,
almost like something out of a book.

Something old
and real—from being real a long time,
like grandparents' ghosts and ouija boards before Parker Brothers bought it.

The wind at night, especially on an especially dark night,
is like dead people alive:
I don't know why that is;

if I had to think about it
it probably wouldn't feel that way anymore.
But, then again, if I think about it I might feel it even more.

I was only thirteen years old the first time I saw someone die,
and I don't remember anything about the weather or anything.
But I saw a movie where the wind blew,

and the dead returned at night.
And even though it was a horror movie,
I felt more reassured than scared.