Tonight's Poet Corner: I Was Left With Nostalgia
I Was Left With Nostalgia by Belinda Roddie After a plate of beef wellington and a tall, black glass of ale, I settled into my purple slippers and propped up a stool for my poor, tired feet, so long abused during a stint at a retail store, shelving tampons and sanitary napkins, and not much else. Outside, there was snow, but not much. It was like a glaze of white paint against an unwilling canvas. I stood up long enough to make it to my desk, where I fetched my journal. I wrote nonsense for a good half hour before I gave up. My stomach settled but my brain unraveling like a loom, I tried to find a way to calm the storm in my cortex, to stave off bad dreams. Another drink could help, or a second serving of red meat, but the blubber I'd accumulate would accomplish little for my mental stability, and instead, I was left with bad soaps on the telly, lousy heating, and a simple desire to drop into the bath tub and count the bubbles like a possessed child i