Fred Cook
The Mandarin Hotel
222 Sansome St
San Francisco, CA 94104
October 31, 2013
Mary Baker
4321 First Street
NY City, New York 10153
Dear Mary,
Happy Halloween. By the time you receive this letter, the day will be long gone. The story of my life. I decided to splurge. A guilty pleasure.
I remember when we were twelve years old. It was Halloween in the Bronx. I am struggling to recall what we dressed up as. I believe you were a fairy princess. Your aunt had sent you a beautiful dress. I think you cut the skirt, and wore combat boots. I joked that princess's did not wear combat boots and you kicked me. Joe was a ninja, all dressed in black. We even painted his face. I think it took days for that to come off. Such crazy kids. I went as a rock star. Hair band and all. Remember that guitar we picked up from the pawn shop? It was my ultimate dream. It even sounded half decent.
You fixed my hair. I remember the smell of your skin and the feel of your hands in my hair. By the time we were done the room stank of hairspray. But oh I loved my hair. It was wild, like Bon Jovi; complete with fluorescent tight pants, torn up tank top and my brothers beat up leather jacket.Black converse completed the outfit. What a hoot we were. We had no clue.
I remember we kissed that night. Under the street lamps. The L train went roaring by just as our lips touched. I won't ever forget that night. We were so innocent and young. I look back and wish we could stop that moment. A picture captured on film. You know they don't have film camera's any more. It seems that moments are now just dots on a flash drive. That moment was more than dots. The light played along your face. Such beautiful lips. You tasted as I had dreamt about for so long. Your tiara falling to the side in your golden hair. Torn tights peeking under your cut off ballerina skirt.
I am looking out my window over the skyline of San Francisco. The sounds of traffic is a strange comfort for me. Portland was too quiet. The quiet haunts me. New York was never quiet. Even in those moments of pure bliss, the sounds of life. White noise on the canvas of existence. You felt amazing in my arms. I still remember your lithe and boyish body against mine.
I wonder what my daughter is doing for Halloween. Her mother is the opposite of you. Some day I will tell you how we met. The ultimate party girl. She loved me. I loved the attention. Yes I am admitting things. It actually feels ok for now. So far I have been sober. The pain in my head is insane. I shake terrible and its hard to think. I promised my manager I would straighten up. We will see.
Once again, Happy Halloween.
Always Fred
Dear Mary,
Happy Halloween. By the time you receive this letter, the day will be long gone. The story of my life. I decided to splurge. A guilty pleasure.
I remember when we were twelve years old. It was Halloween in the Bronx. I am struggling to recall what we dressed up as. I believe you were a fairy princess. Your aunt had sent you a beautiful dress. I think you cut the skirt, and wore combat boots. I joked that princess's did not wear combat boots and you kicked me. Joe was a ninja, all dressed in black. We even painted his face. I think it took days for that to come off. Such crazy kids. I went as a rock star. Hair band and all. Remember that guitar we picked up from the pawn shop? It was my ultimate dream. It even sounded half decent.
 |
| My Hero |
I remember we kissed that night. Under the street lamps. The L train went roaring by just as our lips touched. I won't ever forget that night. We were so innocent and young. I look back and wish we could stop that moment. A picture captured on film. You know they don't have film camera's any more. It seems that moments are now just dots on a flash drive. That moment was more than dots. The light played along your face. Such beautiful lips. You tasted as I had dreamt about for so long. Your tiara falling to the side in your golden hair. Torn tights peeking under your cut off ballerina skirt.
I am looking out my window over the skyline of San Francisco. The sounds of traffic is a strange comfort for me. Portland was too quiet. The quiet haunts me. New York was never quiet. Even in those moments of pure bliss, the sounds of life. White noise on the canvas of existence. You felt amazing in my arms. I still remember your lithe and boyish body against mine.
I wonder what my daughter is doing for Halloween. Her mother is the opposite of you. Some day I will tell you how we met. The ultimate party girl. She loved me. I loved the attention. Yes I am admitting things. It actually feels ok for now. So far I have been sober. The pain in my head is insane. I shake terrible and its hard to think. I promised my manager I would straighten up. We will see.
Once again, Happy Halloween.
Always Fred
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