How to begin…

It's the storyteller's dilemma
sat by a fire in the snow.
It's grandfather's question in a leather chair
and grandmother's by the stove.
It's the same in dripping heat
when fireflies wink in mist like candlelight
and in close-toed streets where neon buzzes
asking questions of dumpsters in the night.

How, in the first words I say to you,
do I not only start the story, but tell you
why I am telling it?
That is the ghost that speaks behind my mouth
that you only find you heard once you're in it,
like words swelling against your ears at the beach
while whale song keens beneath.

Stories have more raison d'être 
than a hedge fund manager of 50 years,
and behind every word is the spirit you heard
that asked of you
"Please, stay,
and listen."