This Booth.

I love this booth.
It is tucked away from clutter,
Like a hidden enclave,
Like the underside of your covers
As a child,
Hiding from the wispy ghosts
You knew took habitation
In your closet.
In a way, that is the same
As this.
I feel the wispy ghosts still.
They still frequent
The closets of my life.
But here, between the
Air conditioner's hum
And the smell of coffee,
The wispy ghosts find
Other closets to frequent,
Other people to frighten,
Other booths to haunt,