this time when i wore the black dress of second chances

This time when I wore the black dress. The black dress breezy and light and full of potential. It had risen from the bottom of my closet to the surface of the water to find a hanger. I see it there. Bobbing up and down on top of the water. No longer sinking. But now floating. And I pick it up. And push my head through the opening. Buttoning the buttons up that live along the ruffles. Me newly showered fresh after the yoga of sweating and pulling and pushing and breathing. My cheeks still flush- irish glow. With relaxation. And release. And busting my ass. I can't find the right shoes. Oh well. Out the door. The skirt waves in the wind and choreographed to the sway of potential again.

To school. I drive. Through the maze of the lines of the urban river. Quickly. For I have a small window to get to financial aid office. For they screwed up my loans. Again. In driving. I decide. To leave it up. To the world of friday traffic if I get there. My hand gently loosens the grip on the wheel. I park. 5 minutes and counting. And run in the dress up the flight of stairs. Please. To get there with a minute to spare. Buttons coming undone in the running. I beg. To the man closing the door. Please. And he lets me in.

Scene change of the black and white break to drinks later. For I had worn the dress again. I had to give it another try. Believing. Because I hadn't in a long time. And I wanted to replace the scene that happened last time with something else in the film reel of memories that plays in my head. I fast forward and rewind and pause. I wanted the dress of heaviness to be light again. I wanted to feel the buoyancy of potential. Of given it another chance.

And as I sit. Sit with friends. At the bar. I feel someone moving me. In my bar stool. Twirling me around. My dress waves in a circle. And there stands someone I don't know. Somehow in this bar. Of helping someone get drinks. Things stopped for a moment. To talk about life. And what we do. But not in the typical CV way. Not in a booty call fashion. But in a way that you desire to talk more. About the realness of it. All. I am intrigued. Can I buy you a drink? I wish but my parents are coming early. How about a raincheck? And then the formalities of information exchange follow.

The best part it was so easy. No trying. Just happening. The dress wraps me as I float on top of the water and look up. At the sky above. I am floating. The best part was the dress of potential of second chances was light again. And so was I.