repetition raze we begin as something less than allies. our bodies buttressed by bedrock and threadbare cottonwoods. you blow a handful of glitter in the face of a friend. she walks with you to the base of a sun-kissed mountain while your legs still respond to the signals sent by your brain. our shared frailty is what binds us, though mine manifests as something quieter. less visible. when you grow too weak to wander, i carry you as if you were my child. i can't remember what you say to push me away. it doesn't matter anymore. mail comes after your heart has stopped beating. a gift from your ghost. between stapled receipts i can't make any sense of, these words of yours spread like wildfire: "you're not lonely. you're just alone." i'll repeat the thought until time makes it true. 240430 what's it to you? who go blather from