Annie Oakley's Halloween

 

Annie Oakley Halloween*

On a whim,

 Foraging in the basement storage trunk

(next to the Fallout Shelter)

Timmy uncovered his double holster

 Roy Rogers silver cap pistols  

Hopalong’s hat,  Gene Autry boots

& big sister Trudy’s Annie Oakley outfit.

 

He dialed TV memories

Sharpshootin’ Annie, sexless sheriff Lofty Craig

Bother Tagg his fantasy to be

a light bulb bloomed right in in his head

 October.

 

Only 13.  (thought he) Still a fringe of kid

                     Yeah.

                October.

             Trick or Treat 

Ghosts & Goblins, wishful dress

one more time, heaven bless.

 

From Mother’s stash of yarn

He fashioned a yellow pig-tail wig

Ready to make his small town laugh.

 

                               Poor  Annie fired no laughs that year

Crossing to the fancy houses

With plastic pumpkin to be filled

Up the walk to Quilque's handsome house

the door reflection shamed his silly look

S/heroine turned towards home

On the sidewalk,  as if to greet him

Stood a Gangster, hoodlum, patsy, thug

Not in costume this was them

Town bully Edward & his altar boys

Billy, Jordon, Hughie, too.

Greeted by their snicker

Taunting Edward  lifted one yellow pigtail

Spitting out a fetid “Pooh”

Robbie pulled up Tim's little skirt

exposing long quilted underwear

They hocked out threats:

 “Sissy, Pussy, Timmy deary

Don’t you look all silly queery?

Crazy cowgirl Boy”,

Hearing/seeing Edward flick a match

Timmy knew t ’was time to run

across the railroad tracks he zoomed

not up the road home

into the field he loved so well

brown & crisp with autumn grass

the first fizzling sparks flew towards his face

Exploding brilliant burst round his head

A 2^nd, 3^rd, 4 or more sizzling blasts

scorn & laughing growls

covering eyes Tim blindly ran ahead

zipping fizzling exploding voices drilled into his ears

 

tripping falling, down he fell

right arm in front, left in back

cap gun impotent

 no Lofty, Annie or Tagg to save him

 ridicule, his holy treat

the howling hyenas ran away

new plastic pumpkin soccer ball

licking lips pleased with  violence

Bully gloating with purloined respect

 gobbling up his partners minds

the luscious kiss of viciousness

 

Timmy lay still, gathering grace, angry, somber safe

Timmy stood,  shaking off the fear and doubt

shoulders back, pulling off his uniform

Skirt, wig, silver guns and cowboy hat

quietly he entered the sanctum of his bedroom

Quiet, glad, so glad to be alone.                                                          

  Timmy’s Halloween Memory, circa 1960    

                                                                                                      *(aka, sadly, Tagg in Drag )

                                                                                                                            

    ©j.m.frase-white 11/01/2021