Oh Dear

Mild, sunny afternoon, I climb onto the fire escape to wash windows still playing at Industrial Revolution colors; dirt and grime runs in rivers down the side of the building. How quickly the money runs out when you are not paying attention. For a short moment, I wonder what the hell I'm doing, but my inner defenses shoot into formation and distract me. I dreamed last night of unexpected baby birds; today I hung Christmas lights and imagined what the season would be like with a little family braided around my sentiments, what a peculiar idea, I found myself surprised at the prospect.

The Mystery swirls and builds. The sun rises and sets. You hold on for dear life, marvel at the sharp turns.

Try to remember only the bits where you laugh.