Ghost out of work.(Poem)

 
Ghost out of work 
 
   I died and I tried haunting Massachusetts. 
   Had I died inexplicably, bizarrely? 
   I begged their pardon: No. Had I not lived 
   in a Gothic homestead, never trod the stairs 
   of turrets? I tried haunting Massachusetts. 
 
   I died and I applied in my best suit. 
   Ahem, they didn't even cough. They made 
   that sound: ahem. Did I not have a costume? 
   Was my love doomed, was she a chambermaid, 
   an heiress? I roamed all of Massachusetts 
 
   in search of work. Was I accused unjustly 
   in a witch-trial? Or justly? They sat forward, 
   interested. Er, no. Car-accident. 
   They sat back. But ...