The smoke of the roasted pumpkin drifts down the street
from jack-o-lanterns burning in the night.
A little ghost trips on his sheet and cries out.
A pint-sized pirate, an alien who lost his flashlight,
and a famous baseball player run from house to house.
Watchful parents on foot trail the trick-or-treaters.
My son's friend wanted to paint his face black
to complete his costume as Jackie Robinson.
My son's real skin would have restricted him
to the colored section just two generations ago.
My own face appears in the mask of a fake mother
to my hopped-up-on candy boy.
Yet I wear the worried look of any real mother
aware of ragged unlit pavement, tampered loot,
and the terrible whiteness of my own skin as we pass
a scarecrow hanging by his neck in a front yard.
We’re running in circles on Google Plus,
We’re passing like ships, and what’s the fuss?
I miss conversations that lasted all day,
And privacy, and building on trust.
We share this home, these kids, the WiFi,
At the end of the day we have to try;
To pour some wine, not check our Klout;
To share our stories, not tweet them out.
The connections can thrill;
The Plus 1’s gratify;
But nothing compares
To you and I.
How you read my mind;
How I know what to do--
You and I,
In our network of two.
This same shall go.
Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,
’Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,
Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.
A woman I forswore; but I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee:
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;
Thy grace, being gain’d, cures all disgrace in me.
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is:
Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine,
Exhal’st this vapour-vow; in thee it is:
If broken, then, it is no fault of mine:
If by me broke, what fool is not so wise
To lose an oath to win a paradise!