accidentals raze some strange snippet of song calls to me. it bleeds through the walls of a building that did its best to bully the stars right out of my eyes when i was young enough to carry the moon in my mouth. the man making those sounds is someone you know. he stands astride an upright piano and lets his fingers fall where they feel most at home. i work out the key signature and play along, filling in the low end while he does the heavy lifting. we trade places. he wails a wordless melody. i weave a weeping harmony. later, i'll find a loop of leather i thought i'd lost and palm the bend in your back when you fall into my arms, knowing this is the only hymn i need to hear to feel whole. 260501 what's it to you? who go blather from