echoed raze something kissed the nape of night's neck. made moist the fine hair that lived there. we were living attached to a crack den then. this wasn't any of the classic rock or rap those beasts blasted loud enough to shake our walls. this was something else. some rawboned transmission from a spectral radio. primeval country music. a thin, nasal voice. hank williams, or a close cousin. i tried to trace the source of the sound. the nearer i was to where i thought it might be, the fainter it grew, until it left me altogether. i couldn't make out any of the words through the deadening murk of half-blind guesswork. i never did learn who sang the song or what it was called. but a four-note refrain clawed its way into my brain. i could sing it for you still. 240831 what's it to you? who go blather from