1 poem

by mary Ardery

This One Had A Sweet Tooth

It was late.     I was driving aimless loops in my hometown      when I saw her:     the ghost

of the girl who went missing.      She was standing at the stoplight      where you head east

out of town      her translucent thumb pulsing white in front of her.      I couldn’t tell               

if she was trying to make her way home      or get the hell out     but she buckled in

when I offered her a ride.      She gestured toward town      without speaking         

which was fine by me      because I drive to avoid      conversation.     I steered us past     

the abandoned Kmart      through the oak-lined college campus     and then    by the high school

we’d both attended.    She looked bored       until I pulled into the Dairy Queen

across the street.      The cashier gave me      a cookie dough blizzard     without even noticing

my passenger. They were closing down      and cleaning up.      I asked for two spoons

because I wasn’t sure       if death was contagious.    I’d never seen a ghost      eat before.

This one had a sweet tooth.      The cookie dough chunks traveled her throat      and settled

in her stomach like a bowl of marbles.      We continued cruising     windows down.

She loved the round-about      it’d been built after she disappeared        so I drove us around it

four times in a row     then parked and we laid in the grassy circle     like a work of living

art.      I said I was embarrassed that       the only constellations I knew      were the Big

and Little Dippers      and when I turned to see her reaction      she was gone.      In the grass

beside me        just a handful of cookie dough chunks           that I took home and baked.

The next night       I found her hitchhiking again      and offered her the chocolate chip

cookies in a tupperware container      that I assured her         she didn’t need to worry     

about returning.        She took them shyly      but I had a feeling she’d been waiting for them    

expecting them.      I had a feeling    she’d known I was someone     willing to bake cookies       

for any missing girl.