Glass (Crank 2)

just might make a U-turn and run.

Headlights. He’s here, and

I’m leaving, no turning back.

The Mustang purrs up the drive,

and the passenger door opens.

Trey leans toward me, smiles,

and there is no baby behind

me, no Mom, stepfather,

little brother. No lef

tovers.

There is only soft black leather,

classic rock on the radio (he

remembered!), the scent of crank-

tainted Brut, the taste of Trey.

The Freeway Is Deserted

Everyone still at their tables,

or catching a football game.

Trey drives over the limit

to Red Rock today, chancing

the odd cop, who doesn’t

materialize. Brad and the girls

are still at the family shindig.

We have the place all to ourselves.

We’re barely through the front

door and already kissing like

there won’t be a tomorrow, and

if there isn’t, this time together

will be worth every irate word

at home. Finally, Trey pulls away.

Do you know how much I want