No Vampires Here

garlic and onions’
sulphurous essence
wage olfactory assault
upon my senses.

halloween’s been taken
too literally, I fear,
since there’s no sign of
blood suckers here.

trick treating candy’s
long forgotten
when nose is buried
in yards of cotton.

should’ve stayed home
facing charging hordes
of sweet soaring monsters
stampeding through doors

with purple blue and blackened eyes
dripping fangs and devil horns
and all manner of ghoulish disguise
donned to make a strong mum squirm.

yet all of their combined attempts
do not dent my mental armour
as much as plane ride minus air-vents
sandwiched between garlic consumers.

escaping from All Hallows’ Eve
with cheap flight at a moment’s notice
did not for a moment conceive
such anti-glycemic hocus-pocus

moving chairs not an option
flight attendant quite unbending
cattle class seating yields
farm-yard smells unending.