…blend into the evening, my face now adorned with a mask

I steal from my house to meet cohorts, with a plan for agreed upon tasks.

Crouching low we creep into the corn field, the ears in dried husks reaching high

We quietly pick and shuck kernels underneath scudding clouds in the sky.

Patiently hiding along side the road, young demons awaiting their prey

A car makes a sound in the distance, the headlights are heading our way.

Handfuls of corn are now heaved from the dark, the hubcaps go rat-a-tat-tat!

We scatter like mice in the kitchen, who’ve been…

By James Geehring