Last night I smashed a pumpkin in the street.
It burst into chunks on the cement.
To be honest, I pulverized it.
The sound it made when it hit the ground was the most satisfying thing.
The empty thunk.
Then all morning I waited around expecting guilt.
Breakfast time came and went.
Mom called reminding me to keep clean, use soap.
Yeah mom I know.
But remember when the bad boys from around the neighborhood
came and destroyed our pumpkins in the night?
How you knelt in your night-gown, sweeping
seeds into a dust pan?
I cried and I thought those boys must be
the most terrible boys on Earth.
They were terrible,
weren’t they Mom?