cool_down tender_square november’s nip did nothing to dampen this blaze inside my chest. i lifted the charred logs from last night’s fire; my fingers threatened to reignite each block before the compost, a flame-sparked flutter to engulf the house beside. and the snake of garden hose released from a vice-grip spout, coiled and charmed to calm. i ran the tap to empty; flooded a flume between foundation and driveway a river drifting downward into all the thirsty crevices of soil. 211120 what's it to you? who go blather from