i brought you poisoned candy, ha!
but you spit them out, one by one–
crushed chocolate on our Persian rug.
next year? i’m thinking, i’m thinking…
mine is wrapped so neatly:
ribbons curled like big fat tongues;
i rip them out, one by one.
just what i’ve always wanted:
a solid gold tarantula.
i toss it out the window, BOOM:
you almost got me that time, dear.
try your luck again next year.
at least i still have the foil balloons.
i love you, i love you, i do.
[me, 1989, published in CSUN thing]