A Saturday in mid-October

Shoeless, I exit the garage to water the monstera from the spigot out front

The concrete is cold with crushed acorns, fall leaves, faded chalk, and tread marks

The high is seventy-four

The pest technician has orange acrylic nails and makeup for a night out

I can lay a trap, she says, but not until Monday because no one can get the raccoon tomorrow

Ok, I nod, and she poisons the backyard instead

I draw Gerald and Piggie in pencil

The outcome is wobbly lines; too heavy here and too faint there

Is talk of carving pumpkins

And the boxwoods on the front porch are dead again

Concealer stains everything that’s white

A single pine needle is on the carpet upstairs 

My son has banana on his face 

That raccoon’s winning, but it won’t win

I can make him smile

Most of the time

She reads Mat sat Sam sat Dot has a cat 

I forget the monstera outside, and it burns up

Loose coughs in a cold shower

No one wants to trick-or-treat on a Monday

Except the kids