Stateless

a weekend getaway to canada revealed

where the border crossing off I-91 is. how to cross it.

what’s on the other side. the grass was actually greener, and i’m not talking about the grass.

not even labor day and already our first school shooting. what would it be like, i wonder, to live in a country that loved kids more than guns?

the god my parents raised me with was love. not that i was convinced, but the narrative was aspirational.

i have always rejected god as hardass bouncer.

once i wanted to save the whole world, then i drew the line at the oppressed. now, i throw small amounts of money and hope it lands in the right hands.

is it selfish, to seek a nation not animated by cruelty? a nation that can study its own reflection and not fall in love with it, or demand its surgical alteration?

i just want a place that my conscience can relax in a quiet corner with a good book. the basic life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness,

as a human, not a fucking patriot.