succumb raze the man who put him up to this sees no beauty in the broken things that refuse to fall despite long odds and loose bearings. i watch him tear off the top rails and replace old posts with shallow graves. he feeds fast-drying cement to fissures forged in silt and sand. he repurposes the pickets, grafting them onto wood better equipped to support them. for four hours he works without once stopping to stare at his phone. the only vice he allows himself is a cigarette, taking drags between hammer blows and the squeal of his circular_saw. he leaves without capping the fresh-cut crowns. now what was worn down by wind stands as stable and steadfast as a mausoleum. i must be mad to miss the mess of what it was before. each time that flawed fence was rocked by a gust of god's belligerent breath and found the will to weather it, i felt a great surge of relief, and something like affection for a structure too stubborn to succumb. 260414 what's it to you? who go blather from