400 degrees for 12-15 minutes
New recipe, same chocolate chip, third times-a charm
It’s 9 a.m.
Ive showered and my eyes are half-closed
Coffee is cooling, tried a new roast, its just alright
I sink into my couch, the dark shimmery green one I picked out
I’m keeping myself warm, now the cookies cool
Im excited to wear something nice today
I get up to smell my favorite cologne, and then I sit back down
My mouth hasn’t opened yet, probably for the better
I scrunch my face and think of mountains and the ocean
Of the air that is the shade of my favorite sweatshirt
[I would wear that everyday, I swear, I want a second one]
It makes me sad to miss such beautiful things
But to love something means to be OK without it even when youre not
Now I vacuum and mop the floors just for me, I even get behind my desk and under the nightstand that isn’t used anymore
But the cookies are great, nothing special but pretty good
And Ive got breakfast warming now, chicken broth, with the pierogi that I taught myself how to make
Isnt it strange, taking care of ourselves?
I raise the volume on Fleabag:
“Don’t make me an optimist, you’ll ruin my life!”
I smirk and scribble it down
How can we love our people as much as we love our places?
Then the breeze knocks at my window
Its damp, savory, distinctly fresh and unclean, the beautiful bastard child of delis and exhaust pipes and garbage trucks and trucks that collect spent oil and the flower stalls and the chicharron sellers and the perfume of people who have done their grocery shopping already and the sharp blueness of detergent from the swinging doors of laundromats and the occasional dog walkers and the horns that make the sky scream at all hours and the people just wandering around who’ve been out all night and the muck of snow that's been on every corner for two weeks and the cars rolling up and down Broadway and the empty trees lining West 150th street and someone’s cigarette smoke, man I wish I smoked for mornings like these
I breathe deeply
I guess we make our own holidays
And I wonder if I’ll have to be OK without all this one day, too