My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie "Dude, I think this pear juice has gone rancid." "What?" "You know. The pear juice. The bottle of pear juice I got earlier." "...What?" "Hon. Pear juice. Juice made from a pear. The juice that comes from a pear. The juice of a pear. I'm speaking like Kronk right now. Fucking pear juice." "...Pear...juice...?" "...Yeah, man. Pear juice." "That's...that's a thing?" "Hmm. Okay, let's see. A pear is a fruit, and you can use fruit to make juice. So, yes, Aaron, I'd say that pear juice is a motherfucking thing." "..." "..." "That's...weird." "How is it weird?" "John, I have never drunk pear juice in my life. Like, in my life." "...Really?" "Really. And I didn't even know we had any in the fridge. Obviously, I'm not paying close enough attention to shit."...

I finish my hike with you with a smile, a bark-scratched jacket, torn jeans and muddy shoes. After I wash the leaves out of my hair with shampoo, I nestle my tired body down on the couch with you. My bones realign eventually, and I brew enough tea to put both you and me to sleep. The aphrodisiac comes when Mother Nature's kiss is hard to beat, but I'll take it - it's perfect for me.