Fallout (Crank 3)

pretty. Maybe I’ll agree, come morning.

So far it looks like Arizona did

at night. Miles and miles of

dark emptiness. A starlit vacuum.

Trey pulls into a dive of a motel.

Hope the beds have clean

sheets. The room is claustrophobic.

And ice-cube cold. I flip on the heat, go

to pee in a closet-sized bathroom.

Trey’s going out for fast food, asks for

my order. I beg off. “Too tired to eat.

And I don’t feel so hot. You could

bring me some bottled water, though.”

I throw back the covers for inspection.

The sheets look okay, so I crawl

into bed. Tired. Real tired. So why does

it take forever to fall asleep? How do

I shut off my brain? What have

I done? What will tomorrow bring?

A THIN BEAM OF LIGHT

Ray guns my eyes, and I jump

up into early gray morning.

Where am I? I’m not alone.

Someone is snoring? Oh. Trey.

It all comes tidal waving back.

New Mexico. Cheesy motel room.

Cadillac outside the door. Smell.

What’s that smell? I glance around

the room, notice the Taco Bell

bag, and wrappers, gooey with