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Ghost of a Moth
Devo is the great infiltrator. This story is funny because it's true.
By Amy YoungApril 14, 20262 min read
Your body, it was cold — barely.
Yet there you were. With us.
Not just in spirit.
Yet there you were. With us.
Not just in spirit.
Weaving in and out — jerky; typical.
You walked through the music
as if there wasn’t a celebration
commanding the environment.
You walked through the music
as if there wasn’t a celebration
commanding the environment.
It was the eve of a new year
making a big deal of itself again.
making a big deal of itself again.
Manufactured happenings tend to
give themselves the biggest voices.
give themselves the biggest voices.
The crowd basked in the plans and promises
tethered to this fabricated reset.
tethered to this fabricated reset.
And you spent your time teasing us.
We redirected our first reactions — shock, desperation
to spare you the possibility of temporal pain.
We redirected our first reactions — shock, desperation
to spare you the possibility of temporal pain.
Two of us could see you: (That means it was real.)
You toyed with us – got close enough
Then let the crowd ingest you
For slabs of time of your choosing
(It was always about you) —
A glazed worm in perpetual retreat.
Then let the crowd ingest you
For slabs of time of your choosing
(It was always about you) —
A glazed worm in perpetual retreat.
The worst part of the massacre
Already said its piece.
Rendering the moment only surreal – unsurprising.
Already said its piece.
Rendering the moment only surreal – unsurprising.
I stepped away to the bar
to try to find some balance in a drink.
It was a sweaty, sardine-can moment
where you only hope to disappear.
to try to find some balance in a drink.
It was a sweaty, sardine-can moment
where you only hope to disappear.
Yet, as I ordered, then waited, a curly-haired dude
in a flowy shirt, asked me if I was okay.
“I don’t know, why?”
“You look like you saw a ghost.”
in a flowy shirt, asked me if I was okay.
“I don’t know, why?”
“You look like you saw a ghost.”
(It’s a fine line between what we want
and what we get.)
and what we get.)
While my head pounded and its
inside soundtrack mimicked a sour trumpet,
I felt ringlets on my shoulder as my bar neighbor
leaned in close and said,
“Hey, it’s time to give the past a slip.”
inside soundtrack mimicked a sour trumpet,
I felt ringlets on my shoulder as my bar neighbor
leaned in close and said,
“Hey, it’s time to give the past a slip.”
“I know,” I said. “Devo is always right.”
I opened my eyes and looked at him
and he looked too confused to be the
mystic who read me and coughed up
some timely life advice.
and he looked too confused to be the
mystic who read me and coughed up
some timely life advice.
He started to walk away, put his hand
on my shoulder, with weight.
Took a twist on his heel,
pointed to the bartender and said,
“It’s time to give this man a tip.”
on my shoulder, with weight.
Took a twist on his heel,
pointed to the bartender and said,
“It’s time to give this man a tip.”
Goddamn, how we do hear what we want to.
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About the Author
Amy Young
I see dead things.
