My Cardboard Balcony

Couldn't Ask by Belinda Roddie couldn't ask for a pint of lager with a double shot of aspirin to ease a shivering spinal tremor working down each nerve that presses flat into the cerebral discharge spewing from each fold of gray matter spooned into porridge bowls. too polite to swallow tablets with foamy frothy fanatic livelihood that tastes like Irish fields when the sun hits just right for the wheat to burn.

How could I refuse him? His sweet smile, his cute receding hairline, the little dimple halfway hidden under his beard? He wanted to dance with me. I simply could not say no. He was not a good dancer, no. But the passion was there as his body pivoted around mine, his fingers shaking as if they were not used to human contact. He was trying so very hard to make me comfortable, and he made me laugh without saying a single word. I asked him out for coffee the next morning. He said yes.