Please

Tonight I prayed.

I have been praying very hard lately. I will say that. I have been hoping for happiness for myself and all the others I know transitioning in life. I guess that is really everyone. All the time.

I have been praying for the health of my family. For the crumple of terminal illness. For the light of Truth. For the overdoses to end, for the poor to feel clean, for the rich to feel safe, for SNL to be funny, for circuit three to end faster, for winter to walk slower. I have prayed.

I have prayed for sweethearts in Canada, for a writer in South America, for the several strip clubs in East St. Louis, for the few brunch places in the city, for postcards to be invincible, for a wedding to be successful, for musicians to make their best work yet, for the good books never to end and the wars to stop today.

Tonight I prayed for Hilary Swank. Insomnia tricked me into thinking Boys Don't Cry would put me to sleep. And, oh, I was so sad. I was so heartbroken. I was so pained. I prayed for those men who ruin everything. And as I saw the time run close to the end I prayed so very hard that once all the horrible things had happened, once it was all over, the credits would role and there would be no screens with words that told the future for those people. No, I prayed, please do not let this be based on a truth. Please.

It was.

I hadn't known.