Page 29 of Crank (Crank 1)

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toxic curls in the

stairwell at my feet,

soft voices rising,

pheromone fog.

He was still there,

my silver knight,

flirting with some

fallen Guinivere in

short shorts and a cropped T.

I kept to the shadows,

observing the game

I hadn’t dared play,

absorbing the rules

with adhesive eyes.

The Rules

Uncomplicated, this

child’s game.

He says, Please?

She says, “Can’t.”

He, Why not?

She, “I’m not that kind of a girl.”

Then she spends twenty

minutes disproving

the theory, until

Mother calls, Hija?

She answers, “Mama?”

Mother, Come inside now.

She, “Be right there.”

It’s a lie. He pulls her

into his lap, silencing

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