The Ghost On The Shelf

You put the ghost back on the shelf
And you beg to know the way
As the starlings fly
Side by side
Their wings cold
Sliding in the night
All around them clouds in orbit
Never touching
Crowns held high
As you hear the click on the pavement
Of shoes outside your door
And the capital cities fade
As the sunshine catches the handle
Like love found in a letter
Easy with that angel
Easy with that weapon of economics
We know you have the heart of a lion
And the hand of a coward at war
Happy only when silence is on the tongue
A bitten finger and the smell of sweat
You put those ghosts back in the cupboard
And maybe it's time to leave
You are the line that will not be crossed
The bandage that is too tight
Reality finds these days
Too easily, too aghast
But hey, you put that ghost back on the shelf
Next to the old book of dust
The book of sarcasm and healthy sex
With spinning tops and daffodils
I know you are the honey haired fruit of the garden
But I can't see what you are showing
And you may not be the lotus eater
Nor are you the soap opera or tv dinner
But I know you are the faller and the riser
In the rain, in the echo, in the happiness of the week
What can you show? What will you sew?
The empty pages of blue lines and vast oil paint
The smell of boys and summer sheets
I can smell the pyjamas that you will die in
I can smell the monkey and the money
But it is happiness that we are after
The ghost on the shelf that you need to put back
Can you tell that reality can see you?
Can you see that reality?
Ach, too many signs and symbols and you have to bite your lip
The strings are silent
But the air conditioner still hums
I like the way you extend your arms
I like the way you know what I am talking about
I like the way you rub the ghosts name out from the dust