My Cardboard Balcony

I Found A Boat by Belinda Roddie How small and unsettled it is; marred by seawater's smile, it sits restlessly beside a dock with broken teeth. Salty smirks and crooked grins everywhere. It does not enjoy enduring the sting of the winter elements. If it rains, the paint will be stripped away further. Like layers of clothing removed, its body is exposed. Cold gray flesh deprived of blood and heat, it achieves rigor mortis without having an actual death to die. Or an actual life to live.

The car's tires were flat. The car's windows were broken. The car's engine was spent, and its windshield was cracked. The car's brakes were busted, and its stereo was missing. Needless to say, that jalopy wasn't going anywhere any time soon. No one wanted to touch it. No one wanted to save it. No one wanted to cart it to the junkyard, either. Because the car had a nice color.