It is lonely at the center of the universe. There is just the one thing, human or God. Yes it is a lonely place, what with the universe spinning a lovely pirouette, moving on with its life while I wait, quiet as a written word or light invisible behind the gray flat line of horizon gathered like weather before the front pours over the mountains. I wish God had put me somewhere else. A place where the air moves, where a bird might land on my shoulder, where words can be exchanged in the town square instead of in a vacuum. A place where a touch does not have such a long way to travel.