There was a band in The Cornfields. They played music to accompany the landed space ship. There was free candy all around. This creature of mine was drawn to these like a Greek to libations. So recently unfettered by gravity, she shot herself across the fields as if floating in her ball gown. Every so often one small red leatherette shoe would show, but then just that lilt across the grass. From the candy back to the music again. The music was as big and queer-turned as anything the Velvet Underground might have done on a Halloween long ago. And Mette was stoned on her first free flow of chocolates and gummies. Christmas is good when the take's fine, but Halloween's always hallowed from that first novitiate's sweet tooth on. Possession and nine-tenths of the law. They get candy, they get it themselves without so much as asking, just a demand and take and sweets; some damn perfection from a child's perspective. Freedom in brightly fringed wrappers. Run Child, next, Run!
