My Cardboard Balcony

Goodbye, Hollywood by Belinda Roddie Let's finish counting coins beneath the broken bulbs of our antique chandelier, comment on the fact that we are no richer than our poorest ancestors, and toss the copper into wishing wells before our boots hit the pavement, hard, as we run away from the gold tipped horizon.

I wear my badge on the right side of my chest, so when they come after me with blades and bullets, they don't get to my heart. See, two months ago, I almost quit the force. Too many bad apples in my unit. Hurting people, killing people. Wearing the uniform felt like wearing the pelt of a monster. It felt so cumbersome, too alien. Too hostile. I can't leave my city unprotected. I'm there for the people. Fuck the chief and the department. If I'm going to wear my badge, I'm going to wear it when I march with the citizens.