portico raze here is how you spent this year's father's_day: tasked with the halting rebuilding of a destroyed portico, which might someday resemble a deck if it ever becomes anything more than the mess it is now, you drilled and sawed and spat, stamping out the morning's music with your own ceaseless sonic assault. sweat made a river of salt that pooled around your eyes. your daughter watched you work. she ignored her crying child and her whining dog, searching for something to maim or kill or bend to her will. the bracket you brought for one of the beams sat too snug. you bashed it with a hammer, warping and widening and weakening it until it reached a grudging agreement with the wood it never wanted to hold. the foundation you've wrought is flawed like the windows were before her husband tore them out and left them leaning against the base of what someone else built. this is where your granddaughter will play someday. 240621 what's it to you? who go blather from