What's With the Tail
#1 of Poetry
Written for Halloween 2017.
So I was walking about downtown, ambling easy as I looked around,
And I hear behind me chuckling, muttering, crude discussion till they're uttering,
"Hey loser, what's with the tail?"
What's ... with... the tail?
Now I'm not somebody looking for trouble in the shadows, but I was walking the alleys on the eve of all hallows
The insult was rude, but I wasn't furious; the question was real, though the asking was spurious.
I knew they weren't looking for an answer to their question, but the rider on my shoulder had a devious suggestion:
What's with the mist on a cool autumn night; dancing like devils in the pale moonlight?
What's with the shadows wrapping closely around you; marking the territory where the darkness has found you?
What's with the echoes pealing off the walls, grasping at existence before their ghostly falls?
What's with the fear swirling about, its maleficent odor stinging my snout?
What's with the drop of your confident stance; doubting the wisdom of your comment, by chance?
What's with the moon in its clouded cowl, begging for notice and a friendly howl?
So the question again, from beginning to end, "What's with the tail?"
Me.