My Cardboard Balcony

Hick Magnet by Belinda Roddie Sell me a banjo and I'll shoot you a bucktoothed grin over a double-barreled mega-ton trickster stealing shine from my cellar. The beer's getting warm in the sun and my buddies out back are sweating while their hats push up against treetops and they're swinging on swings again.

Whether it was fate or not, I found my love to be under a tent cover while the rain was ripping through San Francisco with wet, steaming claws. A little boy had grabbed a live lobster from a tank and dropped it onto the pavement, watching it wriggle and attempt to get back on its feet as if it planned to escape before the shopkeeper got to it first. I stooped down to grab the crazed crustacean and promptly pushed my forehead into my future lady's chest.