Halloween

All the usual defects are here.
 
The Grim Reaper.
Uncle Fester.
 
Devils in low tops
and short skirts.
Scarlet horns sticking through their hairdos.
 
A gang of ghosts.
A gash of bleeding lips.
 
A pigtailed girl
in her forties
with ‘Daddy’s Lil Monster’
across her t-shirted chest.
 
Inky Youth, aka Goth Boy,
with his black notebook,
scrawling all the stupid things
that are done and said.
 
He’ll write a song about it later.
 
The Walking Dead.
 
Of course, these days
phones have cameras.
There’ll be a visual record
of what took place.
 
Hell will be relived.
Repeatedly.
 
Repeatedly.
 
I know,
I look like death warmed up this morning.
No need to go on about it.