Crank (Crank 1)

turns his back on ’em.

Turned his back, packed a bag

and hit the highway. Left

his family,

broke, in a

lousy two-bedroom walk-up.

Never said “bye,” let alone “sorry.”

Sorry speed freak. Least I got

to wear my face minus bruises

and swollen eyes.

Finally without tears, until

her oldest son died, shootin’

speedballs—

just enough

meth to stay wide awake for

the heroin wild ride over the brink.

Michael took after his dad.

Never too much, never enough

of goin’ right out of his head.

What did that make Adam?

Watching his dad choose

the monster,

seeing his

brother lie down for the demon,

how could he want to party too?

Buddy’s all I’ve got left. I pray

to the good Lord he makes

better decisions.

And, knowing all these things,

perhaps more intimately