My Cardboard Balcony

Tomorrow Wears An Ascot by Belinda Roddie Tomorrow wears an ascot, fancy, gray, and listless, full of poetry. It's been like this for twenty-three years. Just today, I thought a student of mine had written a work that was perhaps original, but she copied from Julie Sopetrán (which in no way made it less beautiful, but I wrote the girl a poem just the same). Later, my brother downstairs created a magnum opus of poetic lust - "Hobbes, you are stupid. You are so stupid. Go away." A Pulitzer Prize, I trust? No matter. I'll be slicing up each word like floss between my teeth so it is heard.

Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep breath. Neckline. Deep breath. Clammy. Deep breath. Strong hands. Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep breath. Never. Deep breath. Thought it. Deep breath. Would be. Deep breath. Like this. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. This was the way it was supposed to be all along, wasn't it? Forgot to breathe.