boulevard raze make a right on an avenue named for too many famous men. turn left on a street that sounds like a song. black rain boots garnish a stranger's garden. the mother of someone i knew or a woman who looks just like her skirts the edge of the street, drunk on gin and the first stirrings of sunstroke. the fractured face of a fast_food restaurant announces its plans without breathing a word. the lord's prayer blinks in orange words too stealthy to read. whoever he is, he's no father of mine. your house is at the end of all of this. i stand on your stoop. you aren't home. i take a picture of myself clutching what i have to give. one fingertip fights its way into the frame. the others cower in the shade of what they hold. i ease the secret i've carried here into the mailbox and close the lid, hoping it finds its way to you. 220622 what's it to you? who go blather from