Trick or Mistreating

Tell me, have you picked a costume for your campus Trick-or-Treating?
Nowadays, it bears repeating, you had best take special care.
The occasion may be festive, but the “crybullies” are restive,
And they’re utterly obsessed; witch-hunts might happen anywhere.

So, no sarongs, no kimonos; no sombreros—those are no-no’s.
In fact, if you’d avoid distinctive clothing, that’d be great.
Employ neither schtick nor gimmick; mustn’t mock and mustn’t mimic,
Lest some oppression systemic you‘ll seem to perpetuate.

Who’s that in the shadows, lurking? Do you see a mad clown, smirking?
Cackling, muttering, berzerking? Has he got a bloody knife?
No, just one of your professors, looking for costume transgressors—
But if I had to guess, her goal is “ruining your life.”

So you’d better not say “boo;” someone’s sure to up and sue,
And that may haunt you forever, for you cannot make amends.
Forsake humor, and don, calmy, distressed jeans from Abercrombie
And then you can be a Zombie—exactly like all your friends.

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