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.