PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Your Uncle, the Professor, Doctor [Blanked],

asked WildStuff, "Where would you like to from

here?"  WildStuff smiled provocatively, and

pointed into the woods across the creek.

"In there," he said, "the air is cool with scent

"of foliage."  The sun was setting, and WildStuff

said,"Stars look beautiful seen through the leaves

"of high trees, or when moonglow falls upon

"them, entertaining shadows will take form."

"And vampires?" the Professor asked, with tongue

in cheek.  And WildStuff sneered:  "I would not think

"a man of your age would bother with such

"childish crap.  I read Dracula, last fall,

"during my freshman year, and could not stand

"Stoker's cheap style or the whole book's content.

"Reanimated, rotting corpses turned

"to predators with bloodlust never quenched;

"they fatten up like ticks in their coffins.

"Whoever first came up with that must have

"been just a little, or a lot, addled

"in his or her head."  By that time, the path---

gravel, not pavement (somewhat hard on tires)

ended at a small clearing in that woods.

Your Uncle, the Professor, Doctor [Blank]

turned off the engine once more.  As slanted

moonlight began to move among the trees

(the moon had just risen fully, eastward),

WildStuff asked, "Do you mind if I take off

"my socks?"  "Feel free," your Uncle said; and then

as WildStuff did so, your Uncle said, "Take

"those 'hot pants' off, as well!"  "Ok," WildStuff

said, with a giggle.  Probably he was

one of those your Uncle surmised, and what a shock

awaits.  The air grew still; quite suddenly,

the few birds ceased their chirping and crickets

became silent.  The moon rose, higher still;

higher, and very full, and brighter still.