The Hand

Sometimes.

Sometimes I feel I already lost. I played my hand badly. I can’t get over it. I obsess about it. I play it again and again in my mind. Looking for an improvement. Looking for where I went wrong. Looking for another outcome.

For the hand I had. Never for the one I have.

I could have been. Somebody. At least a better nobody. I could have been the best nobody that never was.

I think. If I had only.

Was that a smile? She smiled at me. I think. She smiled at me once. Mistress Fortune smiled at me and gave me a good hand. But I didn’t know the rules then as I do now. So I blundered it.

I think.

But then, I think. The hand I have. I could play it. It is playable, I think. But I don’t. Don’t have the time for it. Because.

The hand I had.