Glass (Crank 2)

Each of Brendan’s words is

a stab. I heard you had a baby.

Deep stabs, severing arteries.

You look good, anyway.

Ever chivalrous, that would be

Brendan. “Hi, Brendan. Yes,

I had a baby. And you look

exactly the same. Grady,

will you please come here?”

Grade E obliges. I shut my

window, turn my back on

Brendan. [Why didn’t you do

that before?] Bree? Lecturing

me? Am I totally schizo or what?

The Worst Thing Is

Brendan knows I’m back in the monster’s snare.

And what a coincidence. [Coin cide is two

four-letter words!] Shut the hell up, Bree.

“I didn’t know you and Brendan were friends,”

I say as Grade E slithers into the front seat

beside me. “I didn’t know he had any friends.”

I wouldn’t exactly call us friends.

More like business acquaintances.

Grady winks, hands over a bindle.

Even without opening it, I know

it’s short, and I can feel it’s mostly

powder. What kind is uncertain.

The look on my face must say

volumes. It isn’t the best

crank I’ve ever seen, but it works.