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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