My Cardboard Balcony

Bottoms Up by Belinda Roddie Sometimes, a man needs a pink drink. Sometimes, a woman needs a pink drink. Sometimes, an enby needs a pink drink. Just let everyone enjoy their fucking pink drink.

Dapper Day by Belinda Roddie Today, I decided to hand top hats out like candy.

Sonar by Belinda Roddie The echoes in the corridor don't come from voices or from songs. Instead, they all belong to winds and sighs from wordless lullabies. The window opens to reveal a large chorus of hungry birds who have eaten all of the words that have been dropped from balconies. The birds do not come close to shore; instead, they hover over seas of bubbling crude and arguments long scrambled by a hidden hand. And so the beacons light the skies and lead the way to Babylon, where towers lean against each other, their brothers' tongues twisted in knots. So I can see you on the street, and I can see you, heat and all, deliberating over poems that we can read but can't recite.

Family Breakfast by Belinda Roddie Sweet Ol' Granny's oatmeal tasted like honey, gunpowder, and revenge.

The Time Is Now by Belinda Roddie Don't wait for the bigots to die to cause change.

Tauromachy by Belinda Roddie I fell in love with a bullfighter while spending my second year in Barcelona, though I had to travel to Madrid to see her. Even though a court had overturned Barcelona's ban on the sport four years ago, not a single ring showed signs of life in that city. Once I was in the Plaza de Toros Las Ventas during the San Isidro festival, it wasn't just the rosquillas and the limonada that was making my heart pound. Seeing her again - an unconventional champion, having defeated the bull for the past seven consecutive Sundays, was to blame for the weekly adrenaline rush. Celia Molinero - or "La Torbellina," as she was colloquially called - was a real wonder to watch, in her bright red and gold traje de luces, her dark hair woven into strict, conservative braids. She truly was a whirlwind, moving from one side of the bullring to the next so quickly that she was almost a blur. The crowd roared when she approached the toro, and before the faena, s...

Ooze by Belinda Roddie That toxic sludge looks like chocolate syrup, to be honest.