Second Street

It’s ten a.m. exactly and I’m on the air mattress with dirty hair and a giant body (?) pillow that says Maryland Terapins on the front. From this angle I can see the yellow stucco building next to mine perfectly. I wonder if they scan see me from the window up there… Mom said to ‘make sure and pull your blinds, this isn’t….’ but she doesn’t have to say the rest. I get it.

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I had a dream last night that I woke up and decided to go downtown to have breakfast and a memosa. I woke up this morning and thought- that is entirely a possibility.

This is pretty nice, I must say. I feel like I’ve something from everything up until this point.  312. Basement. Philly. Mom’s. Dad’s. Nigeria. Tapestries have come from the basement parties eight years ago. The Maryland Terapins body pillow is Phil’s which I stole out of the living room so I can feel like I actually am sleeping with someone.  I’m listening to that song my partner in crime reintroduced me to ‘Deception’-Blackalicious.  The pink milk crates my Mom and I actually had to put together came new. I’ve got the little African table that was from Nigeria.  The blanket Dad gave me when I left for my first apartment. The jewlery box from my Grandmother.  My uncle’s pottery from before he stopped up short. And…I’ve got the wooden cat.

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