PK Trick-or-Treat

It is Halloween,
and while Sis passes out candy,
Mother has a cold,
and Father tells me on the phone
to go have some fun
before I get too old.

With a mop-top haircut,
chubbed cheeks,
and suspenders borrowed from Mr. Minch
(“Your family seems to enjoy debt”),
I wear forgiveness on my shoulders
and good cheer on my sleeve.

At my first stop, in the Second City,
Paula chaperones children
through a preschool’s haunted house.
She places a hand-aid on a child’s scraped knee
with a kiss.
I should’ve tripped on the way over.

In Winters, I shove my shivering arms
beneath my overalls,
but still feel the cold shoulder
from Jeff. He’s busy with a formula
about the frequency of falling snowflakes
and if any are alike.
Meanwhile, his hallmates snicker
at his yellow bed stains,
an embarrassing pattern
that makes him unique.

The Prince could not be reached,
lost in meditation
while balanced on one palm
on the edge of a cliff.
However, as if answering my request,
a trio of chocolate bunnies lay in a basket.
I almost yell my thanks, but know
he would better appreciate the silence.

Home again, King in tow,
I’d rather go upstairs and rest.
But a lonesome kid named Picky
asks about trick-or-treating
so I make his Halloween the best.