Take Me to Bed(ford)

It's always live, always awake. And, every corner holds a story for me; 

remembrance. 

Side-eye.

Call a friend, let them know I'll be running late. I've been caught up at a bar with no AC, it's my third Tanqueray-cucumber. Maybe it's Sunday, 

we listen to jazz, I write a note on a post-it, then lose it. We find it. 

Good thing I didn't throw it away, accidentally. I wrote everything important on that one single post-it note. Like, 

all the things I wanted to really say, or do, or go-to.

It's only noon, and I've already laughed one-hundred times, forget

my phone at home; it's time for Hemingway, instead. Alright, fine, maybe

a little Drizzy, too. My seventh day, doesn't come with rules. After all, we were 

Born to Roam.

I buckled-under and unbuttoned my high-waisted jeans. Too many huevos rancheros, too much cheese. Now, all I'm good for is a waltz along Bedford Ave. to buy some gems and 

do some yoga in an hour, maybe later, 

ok…

tomorrow.

How happy can one girl be

spending so much time taking such a long stroll?

Sunday or not, I'm daydream believing.

On Erica Vintage Rebel Jeans, Distressed Tee, Woodstock Platforms by Nasty Gal 

On Lauren Top, Renegade Skirt, Neoprene Platforms 

Photos by Scott Brasher