My Cardboard Balcony

Four Nights With In-Laws by Belinda Roddie Seders, Easter eggs, and birthday cakes - what a lovely stay this is! Theories over glasses of cider and half cuts of rib-eye steak. I no longer have to worry about first impressions (God knows how bad the first impression was). I'll hold you in my arms each night when the movie is over and the wine is drained, dreaming of gazebo weddings and car rides to the coast, waiting for a visit to aquariums and hotels. Past, present, and future colliding all at once, time slowing just enough for us to savor it - in all its bitter, salty, fishy, and fruit tart glory.

The freckles in your complexion form constellations that burn when I touch them. Orion's belt is made of ice. It freezes the skin around my cuticles, to the point in which I am afraid of frostbite. There is a pattern to the contours of your face - the dips create valleys, the peaks your own personal mountains. There is no snow on those slopes, but they are smooth enough to let me descend without tumbling and bruising my knees.