We Merge onto the Freeway
Head north of town, and finally
I feel the need to ask, “Where
are we going, anyway?”
I let my fingers creep up
his thigh, feel an immediate
reaction. [Mmm. Long time.]
To my cousin’s house, Trey
answers. He’s got a new
shipment of top-quality ice.
I had a taste earlier. Primo.
“And I was going to give up
all my bad habits for Lent. Oh,
it’s not Lent yet, is it? In fact,
I’ve got months! Right on.”
Trey’s right hand falls upon my
left, moves it higher up his leg.
Actually, we’re moving toward
Samhain, he says. Bonfires.
Sacrifices. Feasts. Those Celts
knew how to throw a party!
Oh, yeah, he’s smart. [Fine, too.]
And I am back in the game.
We drive north for twenty minutes,
turn east toward Red Rock.
The rural community is home to
comm
uters, dealers, and off-gridders.
As if reading my mind, Trey
says, Brad doesn’t live off-grid.