the wound of the devil's daughter

I saw God last night.  No wish to be flippant or unimpressed.  It was coming.  "You are where you are because that's where you want to be."  He took pity.  Pity on stage comes as a tilt or ritual tactile motions, but God will never learn to knock.  What does he look like, Steve?  You're not listening.

The season of Lassie where Lassie gets lost and finally returns to Timmy had me ten inches from of our TV every week.  I sobbed in my hands on that final Saturday as Lassie appeared on Timmy's horizon.  And so that is what God looks like.  He looks like that thing that never saw me see that.

I live with two fats girls that I'll never want to see naked.  One is a genius and one has a full beard.  There's a fly on my monitor because of the no smoking rule. 

The bearded one was squatting long and i truly needed a cork.  I made it to a trashcan, hiding it in a closet until discretion walked me to outside disposal. 

The genius, Miss Vale Dick, found it.  It's her house.  She decided to berate me in front of the bearded one.  Not once, not softly, not with affinity..  but with absolute relish.

Then I realized where I am and that i must really want to be here. 

I saw God.