ABOVE BELOW - casey hannan

You have to pay attention on Ghost Bridge. There's no railing. I'm not paying attention, but I can do this. I can sit here and not fall off. I'm practiced in the stationary arts.

Jack is with me. He's never done this. I'm looking at his face. His skin is rice paper. His veins are overlapping carrot shreds. He's like a spring roll. I want to close my lips on his neck and inhale. I want to bring those carrots up.

Jack watches the tracks below. I lean in. He smells like lemons. I lick his neck. He just sits there, waiting for the ghost train. He's been told some stories, but there's not really a ghost train. I don't want to tell him that. I kiss his ear, his red stubble, the corner of his mouth. He says, "It's not coming, is it?"

I say, "No. Kids get drunk here. They fall off and die. End of spooky story. If there's a train, it's not the one you're hoping for. It's full of chickens, not ghosts."

Some feathers curl around on the tracks. People say it's evidence of angels collecting souls. I sit still and say no such thing.

Casey Hannan
Magic for Beginners
Kelly Link