five bags

might not be enough candy.
how many children are there
in this neighborhood.
they are being born
by the barrel,
the crate,
falling off conveyor
belts.
the parents must be tired
making all these children.
now they come
in droves, sweating beneath
their costumes
and masks,
ballerinas and ghosts,
queens
and knights.
their little hands are
out as their mouths
squeak
trick or treat,
their sagging pillow cases
dragged behind
them in the cool
October night.