The House of Flora

 I feel small today.
 It is as if I have not yet found my ultimate source of liberation.
 Last night, I took my bathroom scale and launched it from the fire escape of The Anchor. I thought that would be enough to mend my life. But it is not enough.
 I talked to a friend. She once was in love. And his heart was dark, and the grips of lust had him--and he sunk to the bottom of the sea. But she doesn't feel small like me.
 I wonder how she does that.

 I wish God could come and inflate my lungs with life.
 And I could correspond with him while he's pumping me with oxygen.
 And I could ask him, in all of his God knowledge, with all of his God magic:



   Why?

 And his booming answer could resound and bounce off of the city buildings around us and into my ears. And everything would shake. I would wobble a little. But perhaps, with this new knowledge...I would only feel wobbly. I would not feel small.

 God before me.
 God within me.
 God bolster me.

 God make me big.