I did. It’s smelly like coconut suntan oil. It’s frothy and full of granules. It’s sheltered in the snow and sitting on steps. It’s splitting my brain in two. It’s filtering eccentricities out my mouth and disappearing my frailties.
Not the obvious. Not a restaurant. Not a beach.
Just a jaunt back onto my old fire escape above the old man who shivered with bourbon and whispered to a stray kitty early in the morning. Back to the tiny room that could have been my baby’s. Twirling around the old chilly linoleum and listening to our music. No TV. I didn’t even want one then.
The snow it fell and fell and fell. Matt was there. I barely knew him. He stayed through the everlasting storm and he stayed behind to guard the door while my best friend and I braved the streets to pick up supplies and see the weather swallowing up the cars. We fell and fell and fell. Tequila roared through us and it didn’t hurt. McGuiness Boulevard was a breeze. We fell through Greenpoint up and down and back again until we had our limes and took it back to the blue sofa.
Back to the fire escape. Our freezer. Our oven. Our laughing.
