“Be afraid... be very afraid.” – The Fly
It is the scary season. Polls say most people are walking around right now with anxiety about the upcoming election. But I am worried about the rest of them. There was a bumper sticker a few years ago, “if you are not outraged, you are not paying attention.” But the attention is just tension now. The outrage is all used up. It has burned to ash.
There is a scary old crone at my house. I caught a glimpse of her at the zoom call to the doctor. She looks like she might be two hundred and forty four years old, at least. She is missing one front tooth, and the other one hurts. She has fallen. Now she lurches about the house with an irregular, halting gait.
The right leg is weak and painful. The left one is blocked, maybe clotted.
You cannot walk unless your legs, both left and right, cooperate. No progress will happen.
Out front, the pumpkins from the garden are pale, the result of mixing with the seeds from last year’s white pumpkin.
This year’s jack o’ lanterns will be yellow, like the smoke damaged sky.
The Concord grapes never quite got blue this year. The birds began to pick them off when they were still a reddish purple, so we had to bring them in.
Night comes too early these days. Every evening of late, Jupiter and Saturn, paired in this October’s skies, peer down over the treetops, into our bathtub, like peeping eyes.
A heavy, overbearing, hotheaded, red Mars hovers each night, presiding over a heavily damaged moon. An angry red monster stalks the internet. He has been hit; he has been wounded. This is the dangerous kind. The red color is bleeding out of his hair and down into his face. Lies are flying all around him; or maybe those are bats.
Zombies with headphones stagger about the streets, mumbling to themselves. Almost everyone I see seems to be wearing a mask. This year, Halloween just goes on and on.
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