Thousand: Four Hundred Eighty-Four

out a few cute anecdotes about the afterworld. There’s the time I met my great great grandmother on my great grandfather’s side, having never met her during my time on earth, of course, one ghost might say, slipping her arm through yours, pressing her ectoplasmic eyebrow against your shoulder and looking up at you through dark lashes, she was so surprised she had a Japanese granddaughter, though I’m really only a quarter Japanese, and that I’m a poet, too, because, she said, nobody in her family could ever read or write or did anything but flick a switch across the