Crush

The crush object arrives by his worst habits, shooting at glass, guns in his locker, a daddy on death row, friends who move dope, a mother screaming he should be more like his brother. At this age every red flag reads as romance, and she decides the odds do not matter. He could not fight to save his life but he looks so cool, and good men die too.

Her want comes with its bruises priced in, a black eye owed and two kisses, Marlboro Reds and his mom’s Mercury. The plan, such as it is, is to piss him off until he hates her, sure the whole time that he loves her, and the verdict repeats into the fade, rather be with him whatever it costs.