strangers_when_we_meet raze the building is all long limbs and lusterless light that never dims. ingrid stands beside a locked door. i seize the opportunity to sear myself into the memory of an artist i admire. "i just want to say that i love your work," i tell her. "and i wish there was a way to connect with you somehow." she shakes her head and shoots me down without saying a word. i go on. "but i understand that no one would want to communicate with a lowly slug like me." i turn and trudge down a short shock of stairs. she follows me. she holds an empty poly mailer with her address scrawled across the front. on the back is a list of poems. i don't know what the titles are meant to tell me on their own. "it's just that when you spend your life being rejected by most of the people you reach out to," i say, "scar tissue develops. it's hard to shake the feeling that it won't happen again and you won't be told to go away." she hugs me. "what kind of feeling am i putting out now?" she asks. "not 'go away'," i say. we walk together through a department store. i keep lagging behind. my stride outstrips hers two to one and still i fail to match the pace she's setting. everything she says is lost to me, the meat of her monologue mangled by overpriced clothes on hooks and hangers. one aisle is a makeshift hair salon. this is where i find you. a dark apron makes your shirt a mystery. you turn to meet my eyes, and i know i've found the face i most want to see. "hello stranger," i say. 250613 what's it to you? who go blather from