Oh my god, she says. He’s so
old, so…so…decrepit.
I Have to Admit
He looks faded,
travel-worn, threadbare.
High.
I can tell,
without getting close,
that he’s sweating
speed.
Linda Sue doesn’t look
the part of a serious
meth user. Only serious
pursuit
of my dad (don’t ask
me why—who can say
what evil pheromones
must have been at work!)
could have dropped
her into his personal
hell
and kept her there,
smoldering at his side.
True love, between
a fairy and a troll,
bent on
proving he still has
what it takes to attract
someone ten years younger.
And both, at this moment,