Tag Archives: poetry

Ode to Halloween

Sometimes, like this year, you are frigid.  Just shy of seeing dragon breath.

You bring out the fun in strangers.  It creeps kids out sometimes.  Me too.

Candy is not a remedy for pinching cheeks and enthusiastic grannies.

Sometimes, like this year, the streets are kind of empty.

Once, like this year, you were cause for mounting a big screen TV on the garage door and sitting around a fire pit watching football.  Their buddy, the cop, thought it was fun too.  He hung out for a while.  We got two candies for the price of one house.

You remind me of an autumn childhood.  Robinhood bow lovingly crafted.  Punk hair meticulously colored.  Wrapped in layers of my mothers hippie skirts.  Little orange boxes rattling with pennies for unicef.  Adolescent boys chasing each other with silly string, eggs, and toilet paper.

This year I just tagged along.  She dashed ahead, a mouse.  Her babysitter, her lovingly doted on big best friend, a cat, sauntered beside her.  I just tagged behind.  There as witness to the candy collection.

You are fun, Halloween.

I hope you never go away.

ode to uhaul

uhaul, oh, uhaul, you make me so angry i feel nauseated

it’s not the 100 degree weather in which i hauled my own boxes

nor the smell of the cab

it’s not the 8 foot high stack looming into the sky

nor the fridge to clean out as i leave and the fridge to clean out when i arrive

it’s u, uhaul

you suck, and make me so angry i feel nauseated

you overbook your trucks and blame your customers for your mistakes

you threaten and yell

you pit customers against each other and lay blame when it is only due to u


you suck

uhaul, oh, uhaul i should have stuck to my declaration of 7 years ago

next time, oh, next time, i will

no uhaul for me

ever again

and, if i have my way, no uhaul for any of my friends, strangers i run into, or other innocent who needs a truck in which to haul their lives

uhaul, oh, uhaul, never again