The Ghost of Christmas Past

I fucked your ghost last night.
I didn't make love to it; I fucked it.
I didn't hold its hands in mine and pulse rhythmically together.
I didn't breathe into its ear
and cradle the small of its back in my forearm.
I didn't cltch its hips or stroke its long neck.
I didn't smell its hair or touch its face.
I just bent it over and I fucked it.
I fucked it hard, I fucked it deep and I fucked it angry.
I fucked your ghost like I should have fucked you so many times before.
I called it a bitch while I fucked it from behind
and when I was through I smacked its ass,
got up and made a sandwich.
I know it sounds pitiful, fucking a ghost,
but you weren't there.
And besides, as pitiful at it might seem, fucking a vapor,
I spent long enough fucking you.
Merry Christmas.

by Tony Phillips