Breaking the rules was a problem, of course,
but not the rules of the earth.
When she surpassed the speed limit
no one seemed to bat an eye,
but you burst out of a single mirror
in a brand new high rise
and they contact the authorities right away.

She suspected it was the fact
that she chose to haunt the state-of-the art
seventy-eight story structure that caused the commotion.
It’s expected out on dusky estates,
but gleaming spires?
That set the paranormal detectors
peeking behind curtains immediately.

She gave them her best:
a skeletal performance in a velvet gown,
playing a mournful violin.
She was see-through, unnaturally,
and when they tried to scream,
they found themselves with mouthfuls of thorns.

She laughed herself to sleep over the last.
It was a nice touch.

She had no association with the building.
She had no association with Manhattan, really.
She’d just always wanted to live there.
Since she hadn’t, she figured she might as well unlive there.
It was working out great so far.

The authorities were complaining, sure,
but she wasn’t having a problem with them.
If she found them too troublesome, she’d just move along.
Up to now, though, she was having the time of her death.