And in the distance, bells

It’s in a crowd of people
Where the spirits have a lot of spaces to hide
Lots of light
Lots of sound, chatter
Is that a chirpy call from one of them
It’s a mobile phone
Some human figure lifts it to its ear
Moves the lips and makes the sound
Nothing
Looks at the phone
Back to the ear
The word
Nothing
And I think they’re making mischief
I wonder if I brought them here
But I don’t recognise any of them
They live here, else they came with all of these people
A crowd of people
There are too many voices
Voices like birds
Hundreds of them all talking at once
Some of the people look like spirits
Some of the spirits look like people
I get up and leave the room
And in the bathroom there is the sigh of air-conditioning
Air rasping through vents, over duct-grids and vanes
One of the oldest voices, my companion
I stand still and listen
And in the distance, bells
Tiny bells that are held by countless ghosts
Holding vigil until I return