My father’s ghost hates cats
on kitchen counters,
I think because they
make him sneeze.
My father’s ghost hates cabinet doors
left open in distraction, and
things not in their place.
My father’s ghost hates children.
He whispers “Velcro
them to the ceiling.”
My mother wonders why I
never had my own, but
maybe not.
My father’s ghost loves lists
of many colors.
I toss them in the trash before
I become my father’s ghost.