maki raze downtown, not far from where this city's last independent record store used to stand, a man throws a pile of stolen books into an otherwise empty barrel. a woman half his age interrupts his reverie, spoiling the perfect bound kindling before he can set it ablaze. he kicks her in the chest and walks away. you offer to walk her home. in case some other asshole tries something. the elevator in her building whimpers like a geriatric fridge. you hear music in its moaning. a rhythm_section and low-leaning chord clusters. you see her to her apartment door. she thanks you and tells you her name. she's a sushi roll wrapped in a sheet of seaweed. you take the stairs down to the ground floor. someone who seems to live here follows you outside. "welcome to the morning," she sings in a voice that breaks open the unborn day. "this long and ragged race." you wish you knew what you were running to. 241127 what's it to you? who go blather from