Fallout (Crank 3)

about how my dad pretty much

broke up her marriage. Yeah,

the drug scene didn’t help, but

how do you just waltz right in and …

Oh. My. God. Not only did Dad

waltz right in and break up a marriage,

but Mom waltzed away with him, broke

up a best friendship. I am my mother.

And that is something I just can’t be.

I WAIT IN THE CAR

While Dad pays the bill, sunk

very low in the not-plush seat,

digesting. Not food. Information.

Revelation.

Dad sways a bit. Kortni props

him, but she’s not in great shape

herself. They look like cartoon drunks.

Caricatures.

Neither of them should take the wheel.

But even if I knew how to drive,

Dad would not admit inebriation.

Impairment.

No one speaks as he starts the car,

backs up, barely missing the truck

behind him. In my belly, knots of worry.

Apprehension.

The knots clench as we weave toward

the on-ramp. Not far, the windows

swirl with red and blue lights.

Spotlights.