Autumn Dreams

It was raining on plastic
and scary nylon.
My wet Halloween costume
stuck to my legs. Thin translucent woman mask
filled with running slobber
rubber band burned my ear, pinched my neck,
but I didn’t care. Wearing borrowed
Cinderella heels, size too small,
I clip-clopped my way up
to Mrs. Reimer’s every light in the house
is on mansion in our mist.

There were three stories
if you counted the attic with the fake windows.
I liked to ring the doorbell, pretend
I was wearing pearls in the moonlight.
When I leaned, it was stealing
to glimpse the winding staircase,
Halloween dream of movie stars,
another world that wasn’t mine
and heaven.














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