Page 184 of Crank (Crank 1)

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Giddy from my absolute bluster

(not to mention lack of food

and a big dose of nicotine),

I skipped up the hall,

singing

a Queen

song about paying

dues and doing time, no

crime committed. Oh, that

Freddie Mercury. What a waste!

That guy was really something—a rebel and worse.

In a day when it was supposed

to be okay to experiment

that way. No condoms,

just good gay fun. We

know better now.

As I thought

about that, I had

to wonder: What will we

know better about tomorrow?

Who cares? Hindsight is useless.

Even looking back now, things seem a bit muddled.

Northern Nevada Autumns

are filled with weeds.

Toxic, high-allergen garden killers.

Tumbleweed.

Rabbitbrush.

Russian white top.

Guess how I spent that Sunday.

Wound up on Claritin

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