Fallout (Crank 3)

closes the door. Did Simone notice

the demon-wolf in his eyes? Her voice

drifts toward me on dark wings of night.

I hate him. He reminds me of my brother.

Without telling me, she has shared

her secret. A half-dozen questions

pop into my head. Real brother? Step?

When? How? Who told? Why did

that mean she ended up here? But in

the long run, the answers don’t matter.

BEFORE TOO VERY LONG

Simone’s breathing falls shallow.

Rhythmic. She’s wandering deep

within some sort of dream. A good

dream, I guess. She laughs softly

in her sleep. Do I ever find happiness

in my dreams? I rarely remember

them. Sleep will not come easily

for me tonight. Not in an unfamiliar

bed, in an unfamiliar room. The night

itself is a different shade of dark.

Loneliness strikes suddenly,

a cobra sinking its fangs into my

heart, venom pumping. My eyes

spill into the strange, lumpy,

bleach-perfumed pillow. Salt soak.

I should be used to this by now.

Should expect the slow opening,

the hollow place inside. I am oddly

not afraid, though I recognize