Crank (Crank 1)

waxed the kitchen floor.

Wrote a four-page

letter to my sister,

told her I was in love.

With a boy.

I think I asked

for her forgiveness.

Wrote a poem, an epic, tinged

with dark humor,

decided to give it to my mom

because this was all her fault.

Somehow.

Went to the bathroom,

considered my growling stomach,

but the thought of food made me want to heave.

Settled for a beer. That went down fine,

so I had another.

And another.

After the Fourth

No more writing paper,

nothing left to clean,

I turned on the TV,

thanked God for the

Jerry Springer marathon,

six great hours, filled

with pitiful people,

whose lives were way

worse than my own.

Hard to believe