hand_me_down raze he isn't sure who gave him the sweater. neither one of us can remember him ever wearing it. he passed it on to me last winter. i didn't think to put it on until this year was tucking tail and leaving. i swaddle myself in its creased acrylic every morning now. some nights, too. it's a little loose in all the right places. its welt pockets hold the tools of my measured revival. it keeps me warm when almost nothing else can. there's only one word on the tag worth reading, but it's enough to tell me what i need to know. truly. 221021 what's it to you? who go blather from