I wake up slowly, memories of last night swimming in my head. Am I still there?
No. I'm in my weird-smelling room
not the orange-lit streets
pocked with puddles I dragged my dress through.
On the breakfast table there is
my hat, with the fluff hanging off
a fedora with a makeshift veil and long silver strings.
On the way to school
songs yell in my head
the way we yelled them down the dark road.
It is still raining outside.
In math, reading, or any other
nobody utters a word about the past holiday.
"It's the devils holiday, after all."
In band, waiting for those seven silent measures to be up
I wipe my face and find silver glitter on my hands.
I smile secretly.
At home, I eat candy, in spite of myself.
They're wrong. Halloween isn't over yet.