Poetic Interlude XXVII

You think cemeteries are haunted? No-
For there we lay us down down to rest,
All knowing we ourselves will lower in finality.
No self-respecting energetic spirit
Would haunt a stately, Sunday-morning graveyard.
Instead, I would direct your thought to banks
So full of tension, conflict, fear and greediness,
Of unresolved desire rotted through,
And subtlety and smooth remonstrances.
I know that I have trouble in financial hallways
Breathing with the ghostly vapor in my lungs.