I am a pioneer.
I ghosted a man before there was even a name for such a thing
Back in the dark ages, like 1970 or so.
I even lived with this man and
Slept in the same bed.
How can you ghost someone you live with
You might ask?
Well, you get up one morning
Climb out of bed
Having surreptitiously packed a suitcase the night before
And left it in the hall.
You put on some clothes
You bend over the bed where
The man is sleeping
Wrapped in an Indian bedspread with embroidered mirrors and
A million colors, scented with patchouli.
He wakes and looks up at you with adoring eyes.
You say, I’m just going to the store for cigarettes, be right back
And he says, okay and rolls over.
I gaze longingly at the bedspread which I have to leave
Even though it is mine and I love it
But I don’t see how I can explain taking it with me to buy cigarettes.
So I exit, picking up my suitcase as I close the apartment door behind me
And get on a plane which will take me from San Francisco to Boston
That will save me from long arguments about why I will not stay.
So that was the beginning of the ghosting epidemic
For which I take sole credit.