Crank (Crank 1)

The Geo limped into

a weather-chewed parking

lot. I escaped the front

seat. Aired out in blistering heat.

Here we are. Home sweet home.

What’s mine is yours.

I’d made an awful mistake.

Daddy wasn’t the Prince of

Albuquerque. He was the King of Cliché.

You Call This a Castle?

Not My Type

No shirt

hot bod.

His, that is.

So why did

/break out in

a sweat?

No shoes

barefoot,

bare chest, with

a bare, baby face

to make the

angels sing.

Nothing

but ragged

cut-offs,

hugging a

tawny six pack,

and a smile.