thieves raze he's come back. they always do. i move the money from my sock drawer to the empty cd wallet in my bedroom closet. then to a different closet. i stand outside the back door with a baseball_bat and wait. he shrugs off shattered glass like a flash headache and smirks when i swing at him with everything i've got. he tells me this time he's going to scar me so i'll never be the same again. his friends are already working out what they want to steal. one of them has left their phone on the stairs. if i could make myself as small as that wireless wand, nothing would touch me but torn fingertips and weather-beaten lips. i arm myself with a paring knife, knowing i'm as good as gone. and still, through all of this, i find a way to feed the squirrels. 260830 what's it to you? who go blather from