shaved
raze
on
the
stiff
upper
lip
of
what
you
might
call
the
face
of
this
house
if
it
was
a
body
born
with
its
head
spun
the
wrong
way
around
,
one
long
line
of
snow
created
the
illusion
of
a
lampshade
mustache,
while
cheeks
and
chin
betrayed barely
a
hint
of
five
o'clock
shadow
.
240119
what's it to you?
who
go
blather
from