Fallout (Crank 3)

See if I care. One o’clock, main

stage. And. Do. Not. Be. Late.

I check my watch. Just

about noon. “No worries.

This shouldn’t take long.”

I PURSUE SAID TROUBLE

Like a buzzard sniffing after

roadkill. “Okay, Leah. What do

you have for me?” It’s a loaded

question, and she’s quick to

react. She smiles, leans into me,

and I appreciate how beneath

her unzipped jacket, a low-cut

black sweater reveals truly

stunning cleavage. Let’s walk.

We go five blocks, silent.

Cut across a hectic parking lot.

Turn down a sleepy street.

Finally she tugs me to a stop.

I scored some amazing smoke.

Thought you might like a taste.

Smoke? Argh. Tempting.

I’ve been out for a while.

Oh, what the hell? “Okay.”

Just keep walking, she says,

lighting an already rolled J.

Pretend it’s a cigarette.

I do and she does and somehow

we get away with smoking weed

out in the open, on a city street.