Streets of Snow and Ghosts

i walked this way many times before. never noticing anything besides the mundane residences and run down park, its basketball court covered in fault lines, and old chain link fence appearing as if it wants to lie down on the job. with the snow and ice draped over everything right now, it seems even less distinct. As we walked our dogs down this street together, myself on my way home, her to the store for smokes, i see what she sees. there is nothing mundane here. houses have stories, long standing memories regardless of the residents, monuments whose meaning was supplemented long after their creation, and one of many families who had left it before now. memories of scars like the faults on the basketball court. if you squint just right, you can still the wisps of smoke from virgin lunged camel investigations.
there is something to be said about a guide who can show you ghosts. only the best storytellers can still keep skeptics from snapping their contempt. but if you just listen to the stories, and then feel the past, you can understand your self relative to where you really are. not someplace that didn't exist before you. not someplace that is lacking in any way shape or form from where your ghosts dwell. just an acknowledgment of what we consider haunted, resides everywhere.