" Maybe you need to embrace disappointment. The way you don’t sleep at night, dreaming of dry dust on furniture and the pleasant odor of plywood and what it feels like to peel skin off of your thumb. Maybe you should begin that perfect novel which will save you. Pluck you from the ruddy jaws of a monster that is right there beyond your failing sight. Not today, Satan, or Ronald Reagan— you learn that often enough evil is not about nuance. It was raining the day I was born and years later I haven’t learned much more about the stars: fire and cold light afloat in the murk of the cosmos. Last night I read about the doctors who removed 526 teeth from a boy’s dying jaw: hours in they feared there was no end to it. That his pain was infinite. Their hands trapped. Bits of white bone arrayed in a spiral beside his sleeping face and it was lovely and an evidence of the divine. Well, not really. Maybe you aren’t real, aren’t listening to the wind as it goes through the night like a sad prayer beneath the stippled sky. Maybe. Just maybe things will get better. Give it a year. "