the word genocide would make him jump this month.
Because it's the first week of November
& the mass murdering of pumpkins is in full force.
Every where I look I see them,
A lot of them are rotting at their carver's doorstep.
As the days pass the funny ones get funnier,
the ugly ones get uglier,
& the intricately designed ones-
Into the empty hollow where their light has melted into wax.
The others are in pieces.
On the sidewalk,
on the street,
& strewn before the dumpster like an offering to the garbage collector.
they're inside the dumpster.
November is a bad month to be a pumpkin.
Unless you'd like to be pie.
Or thrown out with the candy wrappers.