I had such a good idea the other day.
In fact, it was more than a good idea. Much more. It was a fantastic idea.
Now, though, I forget what it was. I remember wanting to write it on the back of my hand with a soft rock—you know, the crumbly kind that breaks apart but lasts long enough for you to write a note on your hand and possibly onto your arm, until about the elbow part, and the note stays until you wash it off, which for me could be a matter of weeks—but I couldn’t find one. Grass isn’t a good substitute. Same with a poison ivy leaf. I know that now.
I started to write my idea in the dirt, but then a small herd of yakkety-yaks came by and trampled it. They didn’t even apologize. That’s how they are.
I do remember that the thought was starting to fade away so I kept repeating it again and again in my head to help me not forget. It swirled around and around, one way and then the other, and then back again…it can be hard to explain what you are doing, sitting in the middle of a road with a dizzy expression on your face and your head circling around on your neck in the way that it shouldn’t, but passersby didn’t seem concerned, almost as though it happens to me all the time, which it almost usually hardly never doesn’t. Mostly.
Then I found a small piece of string and tied it around my little finger on my left hand so that I would remember something, but now all I remember is that I should have not tied it so tight, as my finger has been turning some interesting colors this past week.
The important part is that I remember that there was an important part, although for now, it escapes me.
I’ll get back to you.
