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I drive away without looking back.
No good-byes for either of them.
I’ll never deal with Grade E again.
As I drive home, it occurs to me
that this might just have been
for the best. Not seeing Brendan.
No, that will never be a good thing.
What I mean is, the pitiful state
of this meth. I’ll go out tonight
with Dad and Linda Sue.
We’ll blow through this awful
eight ball. Then I’ll move
on without the monster
breathing against my neck,
begging me to do one more
little whiff. That’s it, okay.
One more all-nighter, then
I’ll quit cold [lukewarm] turkey.
Dad Finally Calls
A little after four P.M. Guess
troll and fairy “rested up”
for tonight’s plotted
devilry.
I spent the day with Mom
and “the girls,” shopping
for Hunter’s baptism
outfit.
It’s adorable—a tiny white
tuxedo, with dancing Poohs
and Tiggers on the satin
