I enter her path.

She swerves.

I point at her. "Ha!

I knew you could see me."

"Go away."

The girl keeps walking.

I zoom up to her.

"I know this is weird,

but I need your help."

She shakes her head,

munches another fry.

"I need you to talk to my brother Mickey.

If it helps, he's really cute-

like me, only with dark hair and a pulse-

and his girlfriend isn't with him this week."

She rolls her eyes, like I'm a total asshole.

(Which I am.)

"I'm scared he might kill himself."

She stops.

Mickey drifts

through our favorite cheesy gift shop,

as always

drawn to the aisle

with the religious stuff.

Candles for saints

or Hindu gods

or Voodoo spirits.

Light a match,

summon the divine,

like it's that easy.

Mickey stops,

picks up a

white

porcelain

Pieta-

that Michelangelo statue