Dickens wrote about the Ghost 
of Christmas Past, and went on, 
“like a child: yet not so like a child 
as like an old man”—which could 
describe Alec at my local Aldi 

just over a year after his death, 
perusing the chips and cookies 
on a Wednesday—the day Aldi 
offers new things for customers. 
Alec was practically a brother 

but we had stopped talking long 
before he contracted leukemia. 
He was dead in just over a month. 
Alec liked to live up to his name, 
calling himself a smart Alec, and 

here he was in Christmas season, 
broad daylight, in his trademark 
khaki shorts, well-loved Hawaiian 
shirt, white socks and sneakers, 
a smart Alec, heading toward 

a freshly stocked Aldi Finds aisle, 
its Christmas candy and all kinds 
of shiny globes, stars and garlands. 
Alec practically lived to decorate 
a Christmas tree. The small one 

on his grave was gone one day 
after his wife had placed it there. 
He wasn’t in that aisle. I turned 
and there he was in front of me, 
fitting Dickens’ description—

red hair gone white, longer than 
his usual buzz cut, a smooth face, 
child’s eyes filled with wonder.  
He started to walk past my cart, 
paused, smiled at me, vanished. 

Poet’s Note:

I was inspired to write an earlier version of this poem after reading a monoku that referenced death and ashes. The monoku’s writer refused permission for me to cite his work, so I put my poem away in a drawer. A Rattle magazine prompt to “write a poem that utilizes a quote as the title, and indicate who said it in the body of the poem” encouraged me to rework it. The poem was based on a shopping trip to Aldi during Christmastime, which suggested Dickens’s A Christmas Carol. His description of the Ghost of Christmas Past fit the bill. Alec has remained on my mind and resurfaced in one or two previous poems. He was a graphic artist and taught art therapy courses for Pacific Clinics, so I hope he would approve.

Bio: Jonathan Yungkans