Macdougal Street L Poem by Morgan Michaels

It looked around as if the deed to the property might be somewhere near and slid Its hands into its pockets, adding,
'Broke, it left me. Why shouldn't I stick around. Impudence! '
'Well', said Donnie, 'may I remind you, you're dead? Ownership expires with the buyer.'
'Most times', reflected the ghost.
'But...? '
'Not this one.'
'You don't need it! You're dead! '
The ghost looked hurt. There was something it didn't want to say.
'I DO need it. I'm differentl.'
'There's one in every crowd', thought Donnie.
'Sure you are. Why? '.
'Circumstances', replied the ghost.
'What does that mean', asked Donnie.
'Forget it'.
'Tell me! '
'Forget it', I said '
There was a knock at the door.
'Just a minute' he said, cutting it off.
'just a minute'.
Opening the door, he wasn't surprised to see the manager.