Crank (Crank 1)

Three zits monthly.

Often confused.

Lusting for love.

“You?”

Same.

Small Talk Shrank to Minuscule

Hot? Not! Wait till August!

The carriage burped. Screeched.

Hiccupped. I tightened my seat-belt,

like that could save me.

Straight A’s, huh? Got your brains

from your old man.

I was starting to doubt it.

No air-con, windows down,

oil flavored the air.

Conversation took an ugly turn.

Never been laid? Tell the truth

little girl.

Like it was his business. He

reached for his Marlboros, took

one, offered the pack. My lip

curled. He lit up anyway.

Quit once. Your mother bitched

me out of the habit.

I watched him inhale, blow

smoke signals. Exhale. Beyond

the ochre haze, city turned to

suburbs. Not pretty suburbs.

She was the bitch queen. I started

again soon as I moved out.