Glass (Crank 2)

of such cerebral malfunction,

if not for an article I once read.

It defined for me exactly

how crank scours

the brain’s pleasure center,

scrubbing away dopamine,

adrenaline and other natural

highs. It didn’t stop me,

of course, but it did slow

me down for a day or two.

Not slow enough to keep

the damage from occurring.

Now only one thing can give

me that kind of feeling—like

I have the world by its throat.

And I am on my way to it.

Several Miles Farther West

I pass a small mountain

community, home to loggers,

retirees, and telecommuters.

My parents have friends

who live here, and for

about thirty seconds

I think about swinging

by. They have a pretty cute

son, who I once had a serious

crush on. We used to visit,

and on overnight stays Quade

and I would sneak out at night,

for nothing more than a little