susan_someone raze the guitar is something straight out of a death metal song. the voice that floats on top of all that noise doesn't fit. swollen with breath and melody, a woman addresses her dark maker and sings: "give me a disguise from a newborn revolution." dave is down the hall somewhere. i ask him who the hell this is. susan, he says. he thinks. he isn't sure. susan someone. in the basement i pluck empty plastic takeout containers and cups from the carpet. dave says he'll be down in a minute to grab the cucumber slices he's left sitting out since yesterday. i ask if he shouldn't just throw them away. he says they're probably no good now, but he plans to eat them anyway. more empty containers on the pool table. an elastic band long past its best on the bedroom floor. my room. my floor. my desk is different from the one i left behind. nothing in it but a few stacked coins. i search for the song online using the words i know. i find a video. eleven minutes of susan strumming a strat in her living room. dress shirt unbuttoned. dark curls curving up where they meet her shoulders. a smirk or a slanted smile at play on her lips. i skip ahead to hear what i heard before. i want to make the ending last this time. 241012 what's it to you? who go blather from