Loose Ends & Wonderings

I saw a dreamcatcher on a fire hydrant and wondered if it could mean something, what would it mean? Was there a dream that got caught up and put out before it even started? (How did it even end up there in the first place?)

In my navy pea coat’s left hand pocket lives a singular screw. To what or where it is supposed to hold tight I am unsure, but on those occasional damp July San Franciscan nights, it sits at the seam of my pocket. I twirl it around my fingers, thinking “I am screwed” (In one way or another I guess). 

Nearing midnight on a Sunday that comes before Monday “Good as gone” fades into “Long long gone” and I kept thinking about how my days do not feel numbered, but instead are just happening regardless. It does not matter if I step on a crack or not, because a boy from the Midwest will ask for my number on the Kilowatt dance floor and I still have to pay a credit card bill.

Everything is a loose end and trying to explain it all away into tidy knots defeats the purpose. Coincidence maybe. Timing sure. Luck, there is plenty. Summer ends in September and Christmas is on December 25th.

My navy peacoat still has the tiny screw to nowhere and I really need to lint roll my wool lapels. I tried doing an Irish accent and Chloe told me “You were almost Irish.” Something that sounded funny because how can you almost be something like that? You can almost be a lot of things, and maybe that is what a failed attempt is. You could almost be a has been, not quite but close enough. I am almost Irish in the way a Palm Tree offers shade. I am almost a lot of things. Not quite a girl and not quite a woman and it’s almost Wednesday.