I saw a man
who was walking alone.
He had well-worn jeans,
yellow-blond long hair,
a husky chest,
in a nice plaid shirt.

I let him hitch a ride.
He looked a bit old, intriguing,
quite distinct, and of a happy soul.

So I took him down the road
to the local country store;
he said he needed a few ingredients
for a specific dinner guest.

I dropped him off
and he wanted to thank me.
So for the following evening
he invited me to a special dinner;
but, that it all depended on the weather.

He wanted to eat
out in the fields.
He said we would have
a very nice meal.

He owned the old barn
just a few miles back,
near the place I picked him up at.

He said the pumpkins
would light up the path,
to a candle-light dinner
under the moon-lit night. 
The time, he recommended, 8:00 o’clock.

My heart quickened,
my stomach lurched. 
Instincts told me,
he would splurge.

But something else
said he would hide,
upon my presence
he would have boldly lied.

What he needed
was a gullible vain woman, 
and that I am not.
(A dense, self-absorbed person.)

So clearly I did not go,
nor would I pass that road again. 
Especially if it were night—
when the living scarecrow
would walk the land,
hoping for an oblivious victim.

©EN, All Rights Reserved

(A favorite annual post)