My Cardboard Balcony

After Halloween Pumpkin by Belinda Roddie People easily dismiss the tragic mess of a Jack made a wreck by a hooligan's baseball bat. But its lantern still burns for the next holiday when its smile is intact and its eyes glow with life.

I'll be a star. You just watch. I'll dye my hair purple and wear suspenders. I'll learn to tap dance and do impressions of Robin Williams and Al Pacino. I'll keep bottles of glitter in my pockets so that, when I want to feel extra sparkly, I'll pop them open and let the storm surround me like I'm in the dust bowl, only prettier and less detrimental to Southwestern agriculture. I will march onto Broadway with a handmade diploma, and with every time I'm shooed out, I'll only become more insistent until they just can't get rid of me.