If I could be your lover I would.
I would take your hands in my hands.
And I just wouldn't let go.
Because only in precious Queens will perfect boys take you to eat Indian/Chinese food in restaurants with disco balls. And to eat Thai food in gardens. The train to get there is so long.
And only in Brooklyn will you go to random Hawaiian themed parties, and talk to boys with sad eyes, while eating sugary frozen pie from the Momofuku Milk Bar at 3am. Or go to Roberta's pizza with Olivia,
and eat green covered pizzas, and poppy seeded gelato that tastes like sparkles.
Or make your way through a cheese plate with a kind stranger/friend who tells you that she has "never fallen in love slowly." And get drunk on nice beer and brazilian music in your friend's basement kitchen.
Because only in Manhattan will you eat dollar slices of pizza, and cheeseburgers and drink stella and talk about where it is you are/aren't, and get lost in plates of cold spicy noodles, and soup dumplings, and puerto rican ham sandwiches and perogies and cups of coffee and mango lassi, and drink more beer and eat two kinds of cheesecake in one sitting, and just love it all.
However, there are no breakfast tacos in New York.
So I'm back in Texas.
So full, and also so hungry.
A friend once told me, that maybe it's love when "you want to hold someone's hands, but they are already holding yours."
New York City, you held my hand before I even tried to reach out.
So blessed and so grateful.
Artichoke Basille's Pizza
328 E 14th St
New York, NY