A masked mob of monsters marches to my door.
Mahidabelle, our smiling witch, sits on our porch rocker, surrounded by fire grinning pumpkins.
Red capped heroes, yellow minnions, gold crowned princesses,
bleeding vampires, chain saw killers, mixed with a few
uncostumed teens carrying Stop ‘n’ Shop plastic bags,
even some four year olds who don’t know
what the hell is going on here, sometimes I coach them,
giggle to our door,
knock,
yell,
“TRICK OR TREAT!!!”

Well, let ‘um.

Let them get all juiced up on Mars Bars and lolly pops.
It’s not their fault that out there, in the dark night,
stalks the real thing.
Fanatics, baklaved armies of them,
bacterium in blood bags,
politicians in polyester,
skin heads, hissing hate…

Let the little ones main-line sugar for one night,
if only to remind us that, mixed in with
the evil, poison and pollution is still,
for now, anyway,
the sweet.