Jason Joyce

Turning Off Someone Else’s Porch Light

October came and passed
but we all kept our masks on,
gypisies
ghouls
goblins
assassinated presidents
spattered with blood and spittle,
introducing the 
worn

out smell,

I spend time quoting Mrs. Doubtfire,
not enough writing about nature, but

our neighbor seems to
be cheating on his girlfriend,

this is why we can’t
have nice things!

My grandmother
hung an oil print
of the Kennedy brothers
in her guest
room,

“We’re his goddamn kids too”

When we visited for dinner,
her cigarette ash speckled
the mashed potatoes,

you mentioned
close only counts
in horseshoes and
hand grenades

And when I turn out our porch light
I pretend it belongs to someone else.