Icy New York City, hot colors, textures, tastes – drinking it all in with a 21-year-old, on break from scholarly endeavors, who needs a pair of boots.
Not those boots.
Who needs a cookie.
The crumbliest, crunchiest, richest cookie in Manhattan, from Levain bakery on West 74th Street. Chocolate, a zillion calories. Would make a good lunch. Highly photogenic, too.
What she doesn’t need: forced bulbs from a fancy shop.
She creates blossoms of her own in her mind.
Needs no silly store slogans.
A suit of clothes suitable for a different girl.
And no other body than her own, please.
No plastic toys, either, no matter how quirky. These flap!
Life itself is a sweet, quirky game.
One response to “Forever Twenty-One”
You two went along.
You shared chuckles together.
Not those boots, please.