A Shoutout to Resurrection Mary
by John McLaughlin
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!”
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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?