My Cardboard Balcony

To Those Of You by Belinda Roddie To those of you who balance on your fences and keep your toes en pointe until they bleed against the iron: Cast aside pretenses and let your smiles be ghoulish as a breed of hyenas all grinning at their prey. You're eager to jump off your makeshift perch and shake the pain of blisters off your gray and bruising skin. Bring carrion to church, but hunt after the priest has sent you home. You'll teeter-totter, sure, while in public, to appear open-minded as you roam through urban streets. But talons do the trick, and gnashing teeth tear souls from present tenses, while you chew loudly from your crooked fences.

I had jumper cables in the trunk of my car, but I also had two packs of beer, a bottle of wine, and three massive jugs of whiskey glowing amber and brown in the thin night lighting around me. The guy who needed his battery jolted stared curiously as I took the cables in one hand and a beer in the other. "Gonna share?" he asked.