A Shoutout to Resurrection Mary

by John McLaughlin

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Bombin’ down Archer Road

In a late October night

A blur of trees, leaves,

Steady stream

By single low beam

 

Your trusty rusty Chevy

Swerves the curves

You say “The moon helps me see”

Just as we, pass

Post road 73

 

Strong amber glow

Throwin’ songs from the dash

Berry, Cline, Elvis, Cash

 

Hands on the wheel

Tappin’, smilin’

Laughin’ all the whilin’

 

Our eyes start drinkin’

In, a sight up ahead

A shimmerin’ gloom

Of fog? White?

Middlin’ light?

 

Then you’re poundin’ brakes

Tires squeal the real deal

At the sight of…HER…

 

Her, faded gown, stringy hair

Clutch purse, in chalky hand 

Her, tired ballroom heels

Her, and her milk filled eyes….

 

And she’s flowin’, and driftin’

Glidin’ and goin’

Up along the side

Searchin’ for rest?

Lookin’ for Rides?

 

And we?

We’re gawkin’ and tremblin’

As we un…ease…on…by…HER

 

And I shout at you

At the dash, the glass, the night

“Holy Jesus!  It’s Resurrection Mary!”

Author's note:

This poem is in appreciation of the vanishing hitchhiker ghost named Resurrection Mary.

 

Her story begins in the mid-1930s, when she spent an evening dancing with a boyfriend at a big band ballroom. They argued. She stormed out and walked toward home, but was struck and killed by a hit-and-run driver.

 

In Mary’s version of the ghost story, when the man who gives her a ride discovers she’s vanished without having opened the car door, he realizes he pulled over just outside the gates of her home, Resurrection Cemetery.

 

There have been over 3 dozen substantiated reports of Mary from the 1930’s to today, or should I say from the 1930’s to tonight?

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Union, Maine  04862

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