Fallout (Crank 3)

Her fingers settle gentle on my inner

thigh, move slowly higher. Yeah. So?

I’m not asking for commitment, and

I don’t want to mess up your life. I just

want to give you a little piece of me.

She boosts up on tiptoes, looks

into my eyes as she kisses me.

I am pulled into the liquid emerald

of her eyes, the invitation—no, demand—

of her pillowed pout, her experienced

hands. And I’m helpless. Weak. Convinced.

She pulls me

down a narrow alleyway,

backs me against a splintered garage door.

I pretend protest, but we both know

claiming I don’t want this would be a lie.

Shush, she pleads. Don’t say a word.

Just let me take care of you. She kisses

me again, encourages my hands

along the hilly contours of her body.

And in one long, sinuous movement,

she is on her knees. In total control.

I CLOSE MY EYES

But what materializes

out of the darkness there

are shadowbox photos of Nikki.

Those, and the snap of December

against uncovered skin

might be enough to make

me stop, but when Leah senses