My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie "No, you can't go to the movies until you finish your homework." "Awww, Mom!" Shana cried out, her hands curling into frustrated fists as she stood up from the couch. "You heard me," her mother snapped. "I've told you this before. Until homework's done, there's no time for fun." "Have you also heard of the line, 'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy'?" "Yes. And from last I checked, your name is not Jack, and you are not a boy. Now homework. Stat!" Shana stormed up to her room and threw herself onto the bed with all the exaggerated pubescent anguish she could muster. This was the worst. Her biggest crush in the whole wide world had asked her to see the latest Roland Emmerich movie - the London Eye blew up in it, so it had to be good - and now she would have to cancel. All because she hadn't finished her essay on Walden. Who gave a shit about her thoughts

In the next instant, my eyes were assaulted by the enormous silhouette of an entirely nude man wheeling his bicycle into the fray. True, people watching did allow me to see all kinds of proud citizens of San Francisco - boys in rainbow tutus, girls in three-piece silver suits, others showing off bowties and suspenders and party hats. The thing was, the guy with his exposed genitals seemed to slow down just for me to see, and his smile was far beyond what you'd call "confident."