A ghastly sight come gelid night
These creatures hard to name;
Who saunter slow and wobble fro
In alabaster flame;
They’re hard to spot, though a careful shot
May sooner yet well know;
That in the dark prance slow and stark
The Ghosts of Fresno.
They sought long west for a place to rest, cross valley, hill and plain,
From whence they come there’s only some with sense left to explain.
A skittish sort with temper short they’ll scatter if you holler,
Through only dark they leave their mark, a bonafide nightcrawler.
One fateful day, on eve of May, an ancient stage they found;
Where air was dry, and the moon, up high, and trees grew underground.
It wasn’t much, but time was such to put on their grand show,
A placid town, then far more lown, California; Fresno.
A pallid swarm in spindly form, they gathered round in a ring,
And suddenly, with subtlety, they all began to sing.
But not with voice, for by their choice are silent as can be, no;
Their song was dance, in psychotropic trance, a cryptid revelry.
They leapt and skulked, crept and slithered, a horrid, stunning ball,
How long their flirt, as I watched, covert, I can no more recall.
But right as I had gotten wise and made my move to leave,
An opal ghoul, with legs unspooled, I’m sure had spotted me;
For in a flash, they yelped and gnashed, a frightening display,
And quite disturbed, as cries reverbed, I kneeled myself to pray.
With eyes clamped shut, and a sinking gut, I held my place steadfast,
But after a while that wretched rile had quelled itself at last.
When finally I looked to see if the haunting now was done,
My eyes revealed that center field there lasted only one.
We shared a stare in that cold, cold air, ‘fore the phantom gave a nod,
Then strode away, as if to say, “we’re truly not that odd…”
I wondered then, in that frigid glen, if their show was meant for me,
An honest chaff, choreographed, for just my heart to see.
If that be so, I hope they know, I did enjoy their play,
But that next time I wish to find their dance in light of day.
A ghastly sight come gelid night
These creatures hard to name;
Who saunter slow and wobble fro
In alabaster flame;
They’re hard to spot, though a careful shot
May sooner yet well know;
That in the dark prance slow and stark
The Ghosts of Fresno.
