This is Not There, Where I Am
Matt Rowan

Some of the illusions were beautiful. Like the one in which I was on a train headed for some perfect town of the 19th Century, but that wasn't the beautiful part. The beautiful part was, as the train fell inexorably, perilously off the rails, I learned I could fly and catapulted myself to safety.
Or that everything was quite all right, or nearly perfect. Neatly perfect.
Denny's, my favorite restaurant, was never disturbed by the man who needed "emergency pies."
I started thinking of prettiness as me. Was pretty sure that was the real me.
Those moments when I know I will live forever. I'd settle for just being in the ether, naturally.
That's the kind of ghost I want to become when I am.