Wednesday, October 31, 2012

In a small town the trick outweighs the treat

An empty cardboard box once filled with toilet paper,
an old football helmut, some aluminum foil,
a new can of silver spray paint, and an old pair of gloves

with a seven year old's hands and mind,
this would create my first costume,
a spaceman

and so I set out alone, away from my launching pad,
to explore my first frontier,
to mine rock candy from Mars and beyond

I hadn't planned on encounters with older kids,
asteroids who had even one year more to learn
how to ruin others' fun

at first, it was taunting words that dropped from the sky,
and my silver ray gun
would fend them off

but a pummeling of eggs, eggs, eggs
thrown from all sides, by cruel hands,
the running yolks dripping into tearing eyes

I was blocks away from where I knew
and where I knew I wasn't
I needed a home

I knocked on the door of the first I saw
and wailed into a stranger's arms
finding warmth and a kind towel

they opened doors back then
before the scare of razor blades in apples
dimmed in Milky Ways

in every town, a cup of cocoa and the voice of a mother
will quiet any nightmare, will dry young eyes,
and make the dress up fun again