Backed into a Corner

It’s me God, backed into a corner again.

I like it.

Nose in the corner? Never been there, even in elementary school.

But backed into a corner, yes. Once or twice pushed into the corner, and what I’ve heard is called fight or flight kicks in. I usually manifest that by becoming very still, forming a slight smilish grinish teeth clench. And my eyes, they narrow and focus just beyond the pusher, not behind, but just past that point in space that is between the tip of the nose and the pupil. Almost to the eyes, but not quite. Then I just stare it down. Stare at it, pierce it, slice it open, and fling it around if needed, until the pusher is no more.

And then . . . I’m in the corner by choice, once again.

Backed into the corner where I can see.

The corner, if a table, is good. And if a table, the corner seat is better. And if a corner seat, and there is just one other chair at that table, and that chair is occupied by someone invited . . . someone invited by God, then that is best.