Crank (Crank 1)

Heard it was touch-and-go for a while.

Still looked touch-and-go

to me, machines pumping

existence into her

through plastic tubes.

Too damn bad. Pretty girl.

Not so pretty now, Dad,

head to toe black-and-blue,

and shattered framework,

facing uncertain healing.

Hard to believe we just partied together.

He really didn’t get it,

turned back to his TV. I

went to the refrigerator,

held my breath, looked inside.

Sorry, not much in there.

Moldy cheese, outdated

milk, peanut butter, and

soggy celery. I found an apple,

soft, but edible. Almost sweet.

We could go out to dinner.

My brain claimed I was

crazy to even consider such

a thing. But my insistent

stomach won the day.

McD’s okay?

One Hour

Tons of tasteless, useless, meaningless

food and conversation later,

two rounded, roiling