cell raze in_dreams i can never remember my father's cell phone number. every other band of beads i've held in the abacus of anamnesis is right there at my fingertips, while the only seven digits i need are nowhere to be found. sometimes the phone itself is a riddle i can't solve — an asymmetric antagonist with orange teeth that glow in the dark. there's nothing symbolic at work here. i know what this is: fear metabolized as future grief, swaddled in the simple clothes of inconvenience. there will come a day when everyone i want to keep close will be unreachable. and what then? in the ruins of that sweeping silence, who will i call on to mollify my mangled mind? 260529 what's it to you? who go blather from