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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=577819" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Poltergeist Biding Its Time</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Boats of a long-lipped scar: <br>I play the housemaid of a truant, I don’t get too far: <br>When I was a ghost, I made it all the way <br>To Spain, <br>But when I died as ghost, living I came back home<br>Again; <br>And the city, and the village grew with invention, <br>And you could hear what they were making all night through<br>The swift toed streets.<br>They made those too, and the university, and the halogens<br>Over the soccer filled stamped with cleats; <br>And I loved a girl there, <br>I suppose: <br>I loved a girl there from the rose bushes no body <br>Knows; <br>But I had already died there.<br>I had already been eaten by the swifter avenues of the petty<br>Men-<br>The petty men who got her first and afterwards she wouldn’t<br>Let me in; <br>And now I sleep all night alone atop the rooftops of<br>Ancient high schools.<br>Like a laughing skull I swig my gin: <br>And I can almost taste her, taste her, while I kick and <br>Flutter like a laughing wind vane far beneath the <br>Swift toed airplanes, <br>The venal rocket ships, the unequivocally winged devices<br>She cleans houses in; <br>And it must be petty of me spending my breathless time<br>Repeating the abuses that she has forgotten; <br>But she is just a simple girl biding her time, <br>While I am the fruit that is really rotten: <br>I am the poltergeist biding its time inside a boy who is<br>Forgotten.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Bret+R.+Crabrooke">Bret R. Crabrooke</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=577819" data-title="The Poltergeist Biding Its Time de Bret R. Crabrooke" data-description="Boats of a long-lipped scar: 
I play the housemaid of a truant, I don’t get too far: 
When I was a ghost, I made it all the way 
To Spain, 
But when I died as ghost, living I came back home
Again; 
And the city, and the village grew with inventi..."></div>
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