To lay my dog to its final rest and later, crush an ant with my finger. My finger as big as a nest of ants. The ant’s skeleton traps it, still alive. I use a book about gardening to crush it. The anonymous fibers of trees from across this continent, end the ant.

There is very little I want to end, besides this night. When our weaknesses come to us and right now, I don’t feel my best. I’ve been drinking myself short, to wake up with my weakness waiting in the bathroom. Tonight I am sober, and I’ll sleep with my weakness.

To all the ants, it was a mistake – I take it back.