when i was 23.


i lived in a third floor walk-up where we had to throw the keys out the window to let people in. the man who owned the bodega downstairs always called me “mami” and his sixteen year old son once invited me to a party i actually considered going to . . . i occupied one of the four bedrooms. i was friends with the girl i shared a wall with.  once, to avoid interacting with anybody else in the apartment, i climbed out my window, across the fireplace, and into her window, just so we could lie on the bed and watch felicity together . . .when i was 23, no matter how much i cleaned, my room felt dusty.  here are the things i never had in the apartment at 23: paper towels, tissues, zip loc bags, neosporin, bottled water, fresh fruit, bagels, or cream cheese . . . when i was 23, i liked to go sit on my roof, listen to music, and daydream
about an age
when i would know anything
about anything.

what i was doing when i was 23
marguerite weisman