Trick or Treat

Norman Bates' mother
Slammed down the thirteenth
Kamikaze of the night
At the K of C rental hall
Before tripping on slurred words,
Dizzy feet and the ragged hem
Of a polka dot house dress.

Falling into the cobra
Tattooed and burly arms
Of a bald, barrel gut guy
In a white wife beater
Wearing a tiara and tutu,
A frizzy red beard
Down to his Adam's apple.

They wrapped friendly
Arms around each other
Messing up the words
And singing off key
To a teenage band
Regressing thru sloppy
Chord progressions
In the “Monster Mash.”

The gruesome twosome
Weaving back and forth
All night
Out the door
Down a dark
Weedy and gravel path
To a forsaken field
Where a lone trailer covered
With shaving cream,
Silly string and toilet paper
Parked sadly in the gloom.

The crisp air before dawn
Cut by the far off howling
Of coyotes, screeching owls
And the white noise
Of black crickets.
The hum in the deep
Void of the night
Like a saw mill on the river
Styx stripping dreams of hope.
Leaving a blindness
Like a soul without conscience.

Not a man, woman or child
Around to witness the blood
Curdling screaming
Of two barely dressed men,
Hung over and horny,
Staring in horror
At a male nakedness
Not seen since the days
Of high school showers
After gym class
In steamy locker rooms
Bubbling over
With curiosity, paranoia,
Insolence and anxiety.
Members of a club
Neither wanted to join.

Racing to the refrigerator
For Budweisers and downing
As many as necessary
To up the ante of alcohol
To purge reticent memories
Of hijinks from the night before
Till they don't give a shit
Anymore and spend
The rest of the day
Feeding each other candy
Corn and spooning
Like butternut squash
In a twin size patch of a bed.