gutter raze he tore our eavestrough apart and left the dismembered mess on the ground for us to trip over. a few extenders, an extra elbow, five threaded screws, and two rusted metal spikes. he dug a trench in the dirt and unearthed a slab of concrete i never knew was there. he intends to have someone else perform reconstructive surgery and bury the downspout, wherever its mouth is now, under the ground so the water it carries won't be seen. but all he does is keep showing up unannounced to stare at the wreckage of his latest project put on pause. when it's feeling spiteful, the wind rocks those twisted aluminum limbs until they rattle. this is how little he has left in his life. he feels a need to break things he has no intention of mending, knowing whatever chaos he creates, he won't have to deal with the fallout. we will. 240505 what's it to you? who go blather from