COSTUMES

This year, Halloween night:

April, dressed as an angel,

goes to the parade

with a devil-horned Mom and Dad.

They invite me to come,

even made some wings for me.

I stay uptown, leave my wings at home,

a group of us weave through the Upper West Side.

Bart Simpsons and Madonnas blend in

with the vampires and princesses,

we pass a couple in matching Axl Rose bandanas.

Last year, Adam and I, matching troll dolls,

my hair pink, his orange,

sipped Coke from Solo cups,

R.E.M. blasting from the radio.

We went to the roof,

troll hair blowing up,

he told me he loved me,

loved how alike we were,

his eyes gleaming above me,

surrounded by all those skyscrapers, that navy sky.

I used to think I’d lose my virginity to him.

Now Dylan, in his pirate patch,

calls me Matey, breaks out his flask.

Asks me if I want a sip.

I take two.

Chloe meets us on the street—

a roller-skating candy cane.

Asks what Dad came up with this year

and why I’m not in costume.

I lie, tell her I’m tired, spent all night

helping him sew.

Say my dad’s going

as his favorite flower,

one species disguised as another,

a bird-of-paradise.

I follow through the streets,

matching Chloe and Dylan sip for sip,

watch as kids litter

candy wrappers everywhere.