ANOTHER GHOST STORY

One of Spring’s false starts, a Sunday in March 
In my roommate’s car driving through Brookline
She tells me about an AI-powered app meant to
Interpret your dreams, one dollar per divination 
I bite my tongue on this week’s cycle of nightmares

At a red light, a cyclist turns onto Harvard Street 
This sort of thing happens all the time, and still 
A flinch and the warm unfurling of shame as 
I try to self-soothe, searching for any possible 
Inconsistency in the figure mere yards away 

Start with the color of the bike, plain black
The neon rain jacket I’ve never laid eyes on  
Ignore the typical lean build and rolled up pants 
Revealing matching crew socks and faded Vans 
But those ankles I could recognize anywhere 

I will set feminism back a decade if I lower a 
Window and call out your name in this traffic
My restraint is my chronically problematic  
Memory: was your helmet yellow or white?
A hand lingers on the button, just turn around

Georgie Contreras (she/her) is a Latine writer raised and residing in the Boston area. Her poetry has been published with Querencia Press, Rappahannock Review, Rogue Agent, Poetose, and Assignment Literary Magazine. Her work has received support from GrubStreet’s Boston Writers of Color and the Fine Arts Work Center. Whether she’s journaling or reading a book from the library, you’ll usually find an indie wrestling match from the mid-2000’s playing in the background.