I sat beside you in the night. We imagined

we were in a 1920’s car, as we rode

in a golf cart through haunted woods. You

had chosen to ride with me,

on this adventure. The headlights

illumined unreal monsters as they leapt

from the woods, our laughter

echoing along with the hum

of the motor. The horror

of life at bay.

Another horror

movie, part

of our yearly ritual. Blader,

dude.

Screaming

like banshee.

You fell

asleep and I had a drink

with your brother. We laughed

at how much we loved you. How much

you and I had in common. You,

the only child at our Halloween party,

our friends 13 years older

than you. You were a pirate. One year

the haunted house was too much for you

and the other kids. You all panicked, but

we finished the gore fest

without you. You said the alley

where you waited was scarier. Every October

we shared for 18 years.

Every new October

is now a memory

of what will never be.

I wrote this draft as part of National Poetry Writing Month. I hope to collect these works for a mixed media/writing piece I am working on entitled Love Letters to My Brother in Prison.