Tonight's Poet Corner: Bad Day, Huh?
Bad Day, Huh? by Belinda Roddie Big truck bore down on me as I crossed the street. Its steel buck teeth looked ready to chew me up into tiny little pieces. Driver cussed up a storm, flung his finger to the heavens, and rumbled away before God could tell him, "Dude, that was rude as fuck." I made it to the library an hour later with no other incident on or near the road. Played a game of chess with a homeless guy and really the only person I could call a friend. Called himself Mister Thunder. But he wasn't loud, and he didn't boom when he walked up and down stairs. Maybe he snored like a lawnmower when he found a good place by the organic food store's parking lot to sleep in. Girlfriend texted me at six o'five, after Mister Thunder had checkmated me seven times. She said we had "something we needed to talk about." But when I got home, all I found was "I'm sorry" scrawled on the whiteboard. And two suitcases were