dwindling raze i wake late only to wake later the second time around. a terrified child sliding out of another false dawn. i coax open bedroom glass to better hear the unexplained harpsichord music wafting my way from across the street. a beautiful woman smiles. long brown hair parted by a trapper hat. her daughter at her side. a tosa with the body of a man waits for a bus that won't come. not now. not ever. he eats a sandwich with guts i can only guess at. wipes his nose with the back of his arm. the bathroom sink is a mess. plastic bottles everywhere. my left foot loses all feeling on its way down the stairs. the right one still remembers how carpet-covered wood is supposed to feel. there's something beguiling in those airborne chords. when i play them myself, the magic goes missing. they're nothing more than notes held together with the muddled thread of my mind, still slick from sleeping. 230801 what's it to you? who go blather from