oblong raze he named his dog after a fruit i've only tasted in a drink that sounded like a dream. he fancies himself a storyteller. for halloween, he sat on his front lawn with a tambourine and a bongo drum, hoping to entertain anyone who stopped by. he hasn't lived here long enough to know. we never get any trick-or-treaters. ours is a street all the ghouls and goblins have forgotten. there were two brief percussive interludes, and then no more. if you'd been here that night — if you'd lingered long enough — you might have heard him speak, though the only good tales he has to tell were lifted from the lives of others. 221121 ... kerry [this is beautiful. every bit of it.] 221122 ... raze you always say the kindest things, kerry. thank you for being you. 221124 what's it to you? who go blather from