soothe raze three pairs of glasses. all with prescription lenses. and not one of them will show me what i want to see. i gather my guts from the back seat of a parked car and step out into the night. the child cries. she turns her back on her mother. says she's left me for someone new. i tell her she wouldn't be the first. i moan a melody to slow the flow of studied fiction from her face. my voice is syrup and sandpaper. it breaks because it knows no lullaby can bear this sweet surrender's sigh. 260314 what's it to you? who go blather from