holiday

Headlights flash past, dragging shadows, pushing light. Dead leaf crunch and ritual invocations, a drift of spirits laughing in the dark. The night looms and the story changes to the tune of clock and street. The night ends, a slow burn of urgent sugar and the smoke of your lips. The holiday as good as over.  The night comes on and on.

I am loose in my observations. I am conversant in the stations of the chains. The words I spill in ritual, the vacancy I acclaim. The hallowed stretch of this numbed tongue. The empty acts of heavy handed grace. Another past unmasked, the hard stop of letting go. Want and words, trick or treat. Watching as the magic passes me by.

Dark doors and candy wrappers. Car alarms and the rumble of some scrapers rattling bass. Ghosts having to wait their turn. This is the last minute, each minute up until. Everybody’s got to go.