There’s a motel in vampire land
Where spider plants grow baby bats
And zombies float face down inside bathtubs.
I wear a black mask that covers my nose and mouth.
Trees scream red and orange and offer little resistance.
The desk receptionist with pointy horns
Says I lack the right number of digits.
Two to a customer. I shiver.
Outside, gas stations give transfusions of fresh blood.
It begins to rain. I don’t know where I am.
My tears flow pumpkin-flavored.