Crank (Crank 1)

but it still didn’t look good—

a bright pink, semi-heart-shaped thing,

blue ink hiding somewhere beneath my skin,

not an easy thing to hide in an itsy bitsy bikini.

Band-aids were problematic. A little

one wouldn’t cover it, but one of those big

square dudes would draw everyone’s attention,

guaranteed. Besides, have you ever seen a Band-aid,

floating in a swimming pool? Would you want to

be responsible for such a disgusting thing?

And even if one did manage to stay

on midst gushing gallons of chlorinated

water, what would all that wet

wildness do to the just forming

scab and retreating infection?

Still, I couldn’t beg off.

Wild Waters Day was important

to Scott’s “leg up the management ladder.”

It was Mom’s day to strut her stuff in

her own itsy bitsy bikini.

And it was always a summer hit for us kids.

If I said I didn’t want to go,

Mom would check for a fever for certain.

Even if she didn’t find one, it

would open the door for questions

I really was in no mood to answer.

Questions I knew I’d have to answer soon.

As I Pondered

my problem, the telephone rang.

Jake happily informed me—not to