Fallout (Crank 3)

Mostly because it reflects

contemporary reality. No,

I think I’ll stick to steady

relationships for as long

as they might reasonably

last. No promises. No “I do’s.”

No contributing to global

overpopulation. Now or ever.

LONG BEFORE

Any Thanksgiving meal at all, a volley

of snores—Dad’s and Kortni’s—

chase me down the narrow hallway.

I slip out the front door, into the bite

of November, early morning. A day

without seeing Kyle? Not going to

happen. The rutted dirt challenges

my bare feet, but somehow I manage

the short jog. He’s there. Parked.

Waiting. Of course he is. I barely

have the door yanked open and

we are kissing. Come up here.

He pulls me into the truck and into

his arms without our mouths unlocking.

Lip to lip, he manages, Damn, I love you!

I slide my arms around his neck,

pull my head back so I can plunge

into the aqua deep of his eyes.

There’s something

swimming there,

in the dark pools of his pupils.