Take me, God. Take me! Grab me, lift me, release me, rocket me, explode me, decimate me, obliterate me. Wrap your giant God-hand around me and fling me far from this place—
I guess you could call it a prayer, this thing I’ve been whispering at night before not falling asleep for three more hours.
An odd time, this year I’ve been having. As if it’s an exception to the rule. As if next year will be any different. I’m old enough now—not quite forty—to know better. Admittedly, I’ve made . . .