Halloween, 2005

1.
 I wore jeans and a green flannel.
It was the only flannel I ever owned
and I wore the shit out of it,
beating it down to bare threads.
I sat on my front steps
with two baskets of candy.
One for me,
one for everyone else,
god forbid they showed up.
At school, people asked what I was supposed to be,
smirks and smart ass comments crossing their lips,
like sticky taffy between teeth.
I wore my jacket through the day,
the only day I was afforded that minor luxury.
One kid, Joe something-Italian,
in his third attempt to start a fight with me,
asked if I was playing a retard for Halloween.
I was pretending to be his real father,
but felt bad that my costume was too close to the truth,
was my response.

2.
 I expected my father to be home.
Birthdays actually mean something when you're that age.
I think he said he would be so as to not upset me,
prior to the day's revelations.
He wasn't good at that.
My mother bought me a bag of skittles,
my own personal meth at the time,
so I had something to do,
while kids much younger and older than I,
ran across with the sheets and plastic taped to their cavity killed bodies.