Fallout (Crank 3)

Familiar excuse. Nods

all around. And Mom? Why

is it always easier to talk about

Dad than her? “And my mother

has pretty much written me

off.” The truth bites.

I KEEP UNPACKING

As I talk. It doesn’t take long.

My history or unpacking. Everything

I own pretty much fits in three

drawers plus five coat hangers.

Too aware of the three pairs

of eyes, inventorying every article

of clothing and five favorite

books, I find a way to keep my

cell phone discreetly stashed.

Some things need to stay secret.

All I want to do at this moment,

though, is pull out the phone, dial

Kyle’s number, hear his satin

voice promise he’s waiting for me.

Is he waiting for me? Or has he

completely forgotten me already?

IMPOSSIBLE, I KNOW

But even considering it makes me

want to pace. My heart accelerates,

like something wild, snared. Caged.

I can’t let the others see it. As nice

as they seem, if they intuit weakness,

I have rewarded them with a weapon.