What’re You Going As?

he made me nervous

–the Coors light & pound of candy corn kind of nervous–

and I had to wonder where that was leading

. . .

turning tricks & treats on the corner, next?

I didn’t know

. . .

I just knew I felt like Cindy at 1 a.m.

–my ride a sudden pumpkin,

–my head all cobbed & webby

–my “no place like home” a ticking time bomb of desolation that

creaked my mind open, and

pounded my heart with menacing footfalls, and

aligned closet monster

with under bed monster

. . .

and abed monster, too

–the coalition of me, myself, and I

and

dictionary definition of fucked-up roomies

darting in & out of funhouse glass, and

stalking my err off, and

wielding unconcealed weaponized gavels

(so SWF)

–all of which might have been more tragic

had it not been so thematic

. . .

had it been Yuletide instead

of

Halloween.