melodies raze someday she'll be struck by an suv in philadelphia. she'll spend a year in bed learning how to speak and clench her feet into fists again. broken almost beyond repair. hypersensitive to sound and light. memory loss warping time into something fluid and frightening and unknowable. music will fill the fissures in her brain. but that version of her hasn't been born yet. and you're still a few years away from dying alone in your apartment, ravaged by heroin and heartbreak. though you've never touched a piano in your life, your fingers find a few chords that capture everything you can't seem to say, and the seed of a song she'll write two decades from now to celebrate the birth of a friend's daughter burrows itself deep in the least likely soil, waiting on the waking up of everyone. 230503 what's it to you? who go blather from