running_to_stand_still raze a fledgling tests the coarse skin that skirts the edges of her home. she hasn't learned to fly yet. too young to know fear, she lets me tiptoe close enough to feel the breeze her fitful steps invent. two grey-haired women sit on a bench, the weight of lifelong friendship heavy on their lined faces. "walk?" one asks. "walk," the other answers. and they rise. a man who beats and berates his miniature dachshunds until all the light has gone out of their eyes limps toward an exit with one knee wrapped in bloodstained gauze. "they finally went ahead and did it," he says. he means the operation. i choose to believe the only dog he has left tried to eat him. the first voice of an air raid siren climbs out of the hushed afternoon chorus and sings an a-flat. an f swoops in and creates two-part harmony. i sing a c-sharp to make it a major triad. a third strand of siren song follows my lead, and i drop out. the second note shifts to an f-sharp. a welcome bit of ambiguity. i have enough time to sing a bass line and toss in a few halfhearted melodies before the insignificant signal slides back into silence. two children race each other to the jungle gym. one has blonde hair spilling out of a messy ponytail beneath a baseball cap. she's swaddled in a black hooded sweatshirt and khakis. the other wears a blue plaid shirt blanketed by braided brown hair. the girl with the ponytail feigns breathlessness as she passes me. "almost there," she says. her friend falls behind. she stops running and waits for her to catch up. "you ready?" she says. it isn't a question. they smile. she bends her bones through spirals of steel painted gold and climbs to the summit of it all. i see a playground. she sees a sierra. and all of us are jagged mountains chained together, beaten back by lightning, wind, and water. 220508 what's it to you? who go blather from