It's Tricky.

It's tricky. I can do it, but it requires finesse. Ha. Like I have finesse!
The guy next door, singing in the shower, seems to be on track. Or is he? How would I know? He comes in, he goes out. He sings in the shower. Sometimes, he calls his dog. His life keeps chugging along.
I picked up a pile of used books today - from the Goodwill store. I looked for the hundred dollar bill bookmarks that weren't there. Why can't people use hundred dollar bill bookmarks?
I came up with a great idea, then scrapped it the next morning. Who am I to think I have great ideas? What's wrong with me? Hasn't life taught me anything?
The wind won't stop - as if it doesn't know that March is over. Somebody, please relay the message. Does the wind have ears or will it have to be written? (Does the wind have eyes?) Is there something wrong with me? (Don't answer that.)
There are plenty of fish in the ocean, to be sure, but potential soul mates are few and far between. I tend to believe that actual soul mates don't exist. Potentiality is so open-ended.
There's a guy I keep seeing around. I went to school with him, many lifetimes ago. He frequents flea markets. So do I. I want to walk up and call out his name, but he always seems to remove himself, just before I reach him. I think he's doing it on purpose. Maybe he doesn't want to remember the past. I can sympathize. I think that, one day, I'm going to force him to. You know, in a nice way.
My dog's outside, my house is quiet, my errands have been run, I'm contemplating the future. A week is as far as I can allow myself to venture. After that, I'll start again. Is Alvin Toffler still alive? His observations engulfed him as quickly as he wrote them down.