The pumpkins are fat. The skeletons are thin. The cats’ patience is wearing thinner. The cats are wearing clothes.
When you are full of light, you are not afraid to fall. When you are Photini, you are not afraid, full stop.
October holds our hand so we’re not too scared to walk into the cold. She blesses the dark with orange and gold. She Halloweens us. She presses our trembling fingers into November’s paw, a knot of Saints and Souls. And in November, we remember: we are always living in Times Like These.
Let Farmer Biff dominate the County’s Largest Gourd contest. Let Gramma Aldene boast the prize pumpkin. Tabby’s Place claims true victory: fullest Flower.
Let the woolly caterpillar shimmy like a sweater-sock. Give the stink bug his noxious due. Just don’t call the lady an insect.
She was bent out of shape. She had missed the Barbie movie, the ice cream man, and every atom of August’s awesome. Her pockets were hairy but otherwise empty. She would still fly first class.
“A volunteer will refine the prototype for Antin‘s pants this week.” Find me another place on the planet where this sentence was just spoken, and I will give you my favorite velvet scrunchie.
“Not compatible with life.” I have been thinking about this phrase a great deal lately.