Fallout (Crank 3)

ride to school. But then, as

I pace the sidewalk, waiting,

a sudden realization hits. Two

guys. One girl. Can’t do that.

If I did, I would be my mother.

I WATCH THE PAIR

Of them now, coming up the walk, cutting

through the herd trying to make first bell.

Matt is two inches taller. So why does Kyle

loom larger? Why should that matter at all?

Kyle spots me first, waves. There is much

in his smile that Matt can’t see. But I can.

Matt says something to Kyle, slaps his shoulder,

turns away from him, heads toward me.

I love the confidence in his stride,

goal in sight, no hint of hesitation

until he reaches it. Reaches me. Hey.

Not exactly eloquent, but that’s okay.

Lips have better uses. The kiss they bring

is autumn rain—wet, warm, wished for.

Matt bracelets me with strong arms.

He smells clean, but not perfumed,

like Tide detergent and Ivory soap.

I am safe here against his chest,

where his heart thumps desire.

This is all any girl could want.

So why do my open eyes stray over

his shoulders? And why am I satisfied

to see Kyle staring back at me?

He gives a little shrug, continues