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THE WITCH ON HALLOWEEN (reposted and title changed)

                  We went there last week
                  Tony, Louie and I
                  Six dogs barked so loud
                  I wanted to die.
                  (The cats scurried by).

                  The outside of the house
                  Was a terrible mess
                  But what can you expect
                  From a high priest and priestess?
                  (I mean can you expect them to clean?)

                  No one at home
                  I wanted to cry
                  But their next-door neighbor
                  Seemed to be a nice guy.

                  I told him I write
                  And would like to come back
                  Some night
                  To talk to the man and his spouse
                  Who live (live?) in that house.

                  "Three people live there," he said,
                  "Two men, a woman and a child."
                  Wonder if they're nice, and kind and mild?
                  Or if they're the kind instead
                  Who chop off your arms and legs and head?)

                  The neighbor suggested I leave them a note
                  "I'm a reporter and would like
                           to talk to you," I wrote.
                  I left it in the mailbox
                  With my phone number and name
                  (Trepidition has no place
                  On the road to fame).

                  A few hours later, I received a call,
                  Son of a (female dog?)
                  It was Lillith the witch!

                  She's a high priestess, she said;
                  (I started to write)
                  And as a result
                  Lillith told me a little
                  About the cult.

                  (Faith healing is appealing
                  If you understand what you're feeling
                  While you're kneeling).

                  We have a date to go back there tonight
                  Tony, Louie and I
                  They're so excited, but I want to die.
                  I might sit in a corner, suck my thumb,
                            and cry.

                  If I'm dismembered tonight
                  Please remember me
                  As a productive member
                  Of society.

                  It's no thrill
                  To write a will:
                  "Donate my right arm to . . . my toes . . .
                  My heart . . . my soul . . . my brain . . . ."
                                                      October, 1980

                  P.S. Naturally, I edited this story
                  and The Daily Journal published it,
                  with photos. However, nobody knocked at
                  Lillith's door that Halloween.

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