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mackenzie rose cook

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the good stuff.

August 19, 2013

i'm not meeting you now, are you crazy? i can't just come running every time you call. because we're twenty-seven now and not sixteen. because it's 3:30 in the morning and i have to be at work in five hours. because i'm a responsible adult with a job and a promotion around the corner and realistic dreams and an apartment that I pay actual money for and i don't live my life all willy-nilly like you do.

i have NOT forgotten how to be fun. just because i cashed in on my impeccable spelling and to ability grocery shop on a budget and am making a decent salary doesn't mean i'm a sellout.  

i'm still that girl.  and i haven't forgotten the good stuff. 

i remember when we used to slip out of the house late at night to meet in the middle, around 59th street. i remember how you would walk twenty blocks further than the middle of our parents' apartments because i was too scared to take the subway but i didn't want any of my neighbors to see me. i remember sneaking the doorman shitty weed and homemade cookies so he wouldn't tell on us-- i'm pretty sure my mom thought the constant baked good assembly line in our kitchen meant i was trying to fuck said doorman and muttered death threats under her breath every time he winked at me on our way out. 

i sat through those awful dinners wit your awful parents and ate every bite of dry, soy and tofu-ridden low-fat health food, maintaining pleasant small talk and consistent eye contact with both of them while rubbing your crotch underneath the table. i made you mix tapes. i spent hours redialing the radio station to request our songs and waiting all hunched over with my tape recorder pressed up against the speaker until they finally came on.

i learned how to dance just so i could teach you. i went bowling and ate fried chicken and tried to sneak into the boats in central park. 

i wore dresses without underwear and walked over subway grates. i drank shitty vodka and bodega cranberry juice out of plastic water bottles while riding the A train back and forth for an entire afternoon.

i did it because i was young and i did it because i was foolish and i did it because i loved you.

and-- you know what? i'm getting my shoes.  

i'll be there soon. 

 

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