Fallout (Crank 3)

and he does not much

care for the “oh, poor

me” routine. So I’ll suck

it up. Still, my melting

smile must signal

disappointment. “That’s

okay. We’ll get together

tomorrow, right?”

Couldn’t keep me away.

He reaches for my shirt,

pulls, and not too gently.

Again, we are connected

by the kind of kiss that

should be integral

to every single good-bye.

I WATCH THE DUST

Of his retreat lift

into the bitter

blue sky. Not

a single cloud

to catch it.

Clear.

Cold.

Empty.

Like how I feel

right now. Love

is strange. One

minute you’re

jungle fever.

The next