Glass (Crank 2)

back on the monster. I’ll need to

sleep before Sunday. Can’t go

to church and stand up in front

of everyone bleary-eyed and

trembling, let alone take a chance

on passing out completely. Oh, yeah.

That would be one for the Good Newsletter!

I Pull into Our Driveway

Park off to one side, where my dusty

LTD won’t be in Mom’s or Scott’s way.

I sit a few minutes, absorbing rock

and roll rhythms, trying to slow

the race of my pulse, the hammering

of my heart. Truth be told, I’m wasted.

Finally I gather the nerve to go on

inside, and when I do, Mom hands

me a couple of large envelopes.

Birthday loot, I’m guessing, she says.

I open the first—fifty dollars from

Aunt Lou, who lives in Gainesville.

The second holds a hundred from

Scott’s dad, my very cool Grandpa

Bill. The card reads: Don’t spend

it all in one place. Okay, you can!

I’d hate to tell him it’s already spent,

and I sure couldn’t tell him what on.

Which reminds me of my promise

to myself to return the hundred to

Hunter’s piggy bank. I will do that,

won’t I? Yes, of course I will. Someday