BY DR. AGONSON
I hear a murder laughing in the trees
and smell the scents of autumn in the breeze;
I felt the chill of early dying day,
and knew that Halloween had come my way.
My sanguine flush, a vampire’s delight—
my secret dream to see the werewolves fight—
to hide my face behind a devil’s mask—
to knock on doors and for some candy ask—
In childhood, the night is pure and clean,
but growing older, something darker’s seen:
Some men are masks of their own masquerade;
unleashed in night, they let the pretense fade.
And what was innocent is turned to filth—
for fetishes, the eve was perfect tilth.
But still, when leaves go dancing to the ground,
and black cats cross my path, I am spellbound.
Tale Told 