Crank by Ellen Hopkins

Crank is the first in a series by Ellen Hopkins, loosely based on her daughter's own addiction to meth.  I picked this book up, not only because it has been so popular, but because my younger brother is in prison on meth-related charges.  I wanted to share two of the poems I thought perhaps my brother could identify with.

Just Before the Drop
(p.88-9)

You know how you
stand and stand and stand
in line for the most gigantic incredible roller
                                                                                                                   coaster
you've ever dared attempt.

Anticipation swelling,
minute by minute by minute,
you choose to wait even
longer, to ride in the front

                                                           car
and finally it's your turn.

They buckle you in, lock the
safety bar with a jolting clunk!
Hook engaged, the chain jerks
you forward.  You start to
                                                           climb
crank-crank-crank.

Cresting over the top, time
moves into overtime
as you wait for that scant
hesitation, just before you
                                                        drop
knowing you can't turn back.

You know how you feel
at that instant?  Well, that's
exactly how it feels when you
shake hands with the
                                                         monster.

Problem Number Four:  Feeling Good

(p. 414-5)

The biggest problem of all.

You know how riding real fast 

in a car

or a spectacular takeoff

in a jet

gives you an awesome rush of adrenaline?

You know how spotting an eagle

cruising low over

the treetops, 

or watching a baby finally master

the try-try-again

of walking makes you glow all over?

You know how singing a beautiful song

with dead-on pitch,

or getting every test answer right,

including the extra credit

brainteaser,

makes you feel like you could take on the world?

You know how waking up to perfect skies,

enough sunshine to warm you, not 

enough to bake you,

or watching a silent fall of quarter-sized

snowflakes

gives you delicious shivers of pleasure?

Somewhere on my stroll

with the monster,

I'd lost these things.

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