No fingerprints (a poem)

Written while watching the Season 2 finale of Orange is the New Black

Fingerprints are nowhere to be found
can they prove there was even a crime?
The scene is vacant
no signs of life
What were they doing there anyway?

How do ghosts get by without being noticed?
(I don’t believe all that crap from the movies)
If there are so many of them around
someone reliable would have actually seen one
instead of flakes with shaky cameras

What stories will the ghosts left behind have to tell?
What will they say about us in our absence?
(Assuming they even stick around that long)
Tomorrow will be a new day in a new place
still no fingerprints left behind

(26 June 2015—posted June 27—edited July 8)