a smashed pumpkin on my porch,
a few cracked
eggs as well
splattered on the door.
large brown shells
are scattered about.
they look organic,
from free range chickens,
no doubt.
i have my suspicions
as to who
the culprit was
who carried this Halloween
mayhem out.
i think it was Becky, the comptroller
of the condo
board,
and yoga instructor for Antifa,
the eighty-year-old
blue haired
spinster
three houses down.
we've never gotten along,
not since the day i moved in twenty
three years ago
and put
the stars and stripes out.
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