Days have passed, and I've had random coatrack thoughts. Spotted one at work, much like the hook on the back of my door, but on the bathroom stall wall. It was even white, like mine, sticking out against the grey wall. And at the time, I was just getting some toilet paper to blow my nose, no occasion to hang up my sweater, had I been wearing one.

At another house in days passed, I also heard mention of a coatrack in the form of a dead human body... Bizarre circumstance, and there it was, my obsession cloaked in the macabre. Recent reading makes me wonder.

Life and its twists and turns... I buy a house and soon find a trivial obsession for the sake of creative outlet (?). Bought the house, but still nowhere to hang my sweater. Back of the door, to be forgotten, sure. Can even hang it as I do my business in at least one restroom. But no coatrack next to the misplaced recliner in my 'dining room.' Right now, a sweater is wrapped around the chair in which I sit cross-legged. And on the door's hook hangs a flannel shirt, forgotten.

I've forgotten so much already, I'm sure. Forgotten to mention two separate email messages bearing links to or images of coatracks. Forget that I'm just killing time, here and now, enjoying idle words and sinking.

Comfortably. Sinking comfortably into feathered thoughts, dreams of toucans altogether too large, landing in palm trees... flinging dung at me. I dodge it, deflect it with superpowered sleeves, but find in the morning, awake, that my windshield has been defiled. For the first time in this neighborhood.

I'll wait for the rain. I buy gas once a month now, and did so today without cleaning my windshield. So I'll wait. The rain will come and wash away the toucan dream-dung. I'll have an umbrella handy, perhaps no coatrack, but umbrellas work wonders at times.

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