dismantled raze here's what happens before an airplane rips the roof off the world: you sit in a dimly lit basement and reconnect with a cousin you haven't seen since you were both smaller versions of yourselves. he's almost too thin to be real. but he's the same dennis you grew up with. you tell him of the time he stood up for you when no one else would. in the middle of a meal much like the one you're about to have, your stepfather's sister told everyone you were intellectually disabled. it was her way of trying to humiliate you in front of a family you never chose. "isn't he retarded?" she asked dennis. dennis said, "i think he's the only normal person at this table." he has no memory of this. tears fill his eyes when he sees what his small act of adolescent bravery still means to you. a handshake collapses into a hug, and for a moment you're both boys again. a man you haven't met before has drawn a portrait of two fledglings. they're a little like the children you two once were. the sparse blue background creates the illusion of flight. upstairs everyone is already eating without you. a plane passes overhead. "here we go," you say, your voice smeared with sarcasm and exhaustion. "it wouldn't be a celebration without a plane." then the dream is dismantled and you're thrown back into the bed they'll bury you in. because the plane is real. and it's coming to kill you. 250723 what's it to you? who go blather from