At the Halloween party, there’s a sexy Spock,
sexy Smurfs and even sexy ayatollahs.
There’s black-light body paint, but conspicuous blood
turns out to be lipstick more often than not.
The dark, already harbouring an army of crow’s feet,
tugs its miniskirt over the lime Pilsner fist-pumps
and Polo for men. Curious high-schoolers slip on gin,
Vincent Price and Robert Goulet fight for the dance floor.
No love for the freshmen in drag, the beer-box robots;
maybe a punchline and a safe drive home.
Did you have a good time? No one gave you
any pills? Your brother choked on a lollipop stem
and an Evel Knievel threw up on our porch step
so watch out for that.