Every night I brush my teeth,
I lift up the blankets that hang over the side of my bed
and hesitantly peek underneath.
I sigh with relief.
No monsters tonight. I tell myself.
My finger lingers on the switch that turns the night light on.
Part of me knows I’m being irrational.
There is no good reason for a grown *** man to be afraid of the dark.
I tell myself, in my father’s voice.
But there’s a part of me, much deeper, underneath the fear even,
that enjoys playing this game.
It makes me feel young again.
It reminds me of a time before dorms, term papers,
bosses, deadlines, and death - looming eerily in the distance
Getting closer every year that I look over my shoulder,
before we learned that life wasn’t meant to be enjoyed,
only suffered and survived.
A time before the march toward Oblivion, in funny looking suits,
with high hopes that we can trick someone into thinking that we belong here
In this grotesque parade of strangers in masks.

I hide under my covers with a flashlight and old comic books.
Holding back laughter, with imaginary fear of waking the ghosts of my parents
who I  often thought of sleeping in the other room,
just like they did before they died,
One of old age, the other in a mid-life crisis motorcycle accident,
Leaving me the empty house with her romance novels
and his extensive **** collection.
I remind myself that I have work in the morning
which quickly drags me down from my euphoric nostalgia.

I put Spiderman back in his plastic case
and stick him in the dresser drawer
full of all my guilty pleasures and memories of  yesterday.
I then remove my mask and crawl under the bed,
where no one thinks to look for us anymore,
and drift into fantasies full of all those familiar faces
of my Neverland.