Tonight's Poet Corner: Yet To Come
Yet To Come by Belinda Roddie Here's how I wound up dating the Ghost of Christmas Past: she took me to a twenty-four hour diner, where they served pancakes on top of biscuits and gravy, and she told me all about her childhood, her favorite coffee memories, her embarrassing escapades and her sweet cream-filled romances under moonlight. She never pondered on the future. Never made plans for any tomorrows. Yet somehow, I managed to show up at her doorstep every night, whisked under cold sheets and an eiderdown comforter, kissed until I had dreams about former affairs and lovers, stopped pretending there was destiny I could forge out of iron. I decided that my goals had already rusted over, my anxieties not worth the energy. Why fret when here, in a bedroom built out of recollections, everything was soft and cushioned and quite prone to mental suffocation?