Sighting

Found poem.

I saw him
Across the grocery store parking lot
White hair, aglow in sunlight
Glasses glinting, pushing a cart
I stopped mid step, staring
Trance-like, a bird dog losing itself in its task
Synapses firing, thoughts caught
But also, nothingness.

It’s him.
It’s not.
I should call out
A sob creeping up to close my throat.

It’s not him.
He’s too tall.
Keep walking.
Unlock car. Sit.
Stay.
Shake.

Recall the advice.
It’s a process.
Grief is a fickle bitch.
It’s not been long.

Question sanity.
A visitation?
In a parking lot?
Is denial having its way?
Did I see what I wanted to see?

In a minute’s time
The ghost drives away in his beige Camry.
I sit glassy-eyed gazing, still in sunlight,
Watching an empty parking space
For evidence of the hereafter.