Prayers of a Ghost

I whisper the prayers of a ghost
in crowded corridors
on anonymous city streets
on trains and in theaters

I know my face
is one of the pale masks I see
a sign in its own lost language
no one can read

When I emerge 
I feel exposed, foolish
laugh nervously and blush
scamper away

I could live my whole life
behind this mask
never be embarrassed
never be touched

I whisper my prayers
below the street white noise
where no one can hear them
multitudes pass me by

My prayer is that someone is praying with me.