A luminous plastic skeleton anticipates Halloween
Shots will be a quid;
cocktails less than three though
I’ll shine after soaking up the rays
from this stale
electric sun I’m dangling from.
En pointe in air,
I have a double-jointed
in fact, I’m almost dancing.
This man swats unseen wasps.
No, he’s playing ten-pin bowling-
(Wi-i is free)- on a wall-sized screen
to The Cure played loud.
My pelvis is fit to shimmer.
My skull is set to glow.
The rubber ghoul in a top-hat
raises his arms, see the punters’ shock!
Come Friday night, we’ll be back in a box
in the cellar, in a space still warm
from the hot round bodies of baubles.