Oh God, the Moon

 

I was awakened by the absence of thunder and lightning outside my window early this morning. We’ve had storms and rain and hail and wind and tornados all this summer. Why is this night different from all the others? 

Where are the assassins? Where are the volcanos? Where are the divorce lawyers and the derecho wind storms? Instead I have psychology and philosophy. Questions and ideas. 

I’m going to die. You’re going to die. We’re all going to die. And now I am awake and cannot sleep. 

 Breathe. Think thoughts. Ask questions. Am I full of shit? Oh god, the moon. The moon and the way love turns into hate. Passion sours, curdles and the moon turns.