Fallout (Crank 3)

tawny

legs into gartered stockings.

Curling long ripples

into the honey lake of her

hair.

Enhancing already

impossible beauty with

a touch of blush against

flawless

skin. She slips into her

new dress—a seraph robed

in red. Then she turns to

face

me, the question in her eyes

as obvious as my answer:

“You are more than

beautiful. You are

perfection.”

BEST OF ALL

She is mine. I am acutely

aware of how other men stare

as we enter the ballroom.

They are not looking at me.

I love her on my arm,

an exquisite piece of jewelry.

A few of the women glare.

Nikki is the ruby

they wish they could

be. Their marble eyes follow

us to our table, leave us