halloween.

i hate being scared.
i always have. but i don’t
hate chocolate bars.

fresh air.

oh my, terry gross,
you are a journalistic,
national treasure.

i’m treading water,
my legs and arms are tired,
but it keeps raining.

as fast as you came,
you left; all that remains is
dumb pumpkin spice. gross.

runny noses and
very hoarse voices surround
me, still standing tall.

bright, white lights, cold air.
wheelchairs, crutches, sneezes, coughs.
you, me, our baby.

a fever is just
a hot forehead until it’s
an ear infection.

luigi, no wait,
thomas, no wait, spider-man,
no wait, luigi.

tiny, peach-colored
pill, designed to promote sleep,
just makes me panic.

little children, by
design, don’t remember how
much their parents fail.