unkind raze one word passes between us when i walk across her lawn, averting my gaze from the awkwardness our greeting has built. my body betrays me. i crumple, a paper plate flattened by the feet of some sadistic god, and take my place among the thistle and crabgrass. she doesn't want me here. i rise, rickety but resolute, and limp away from unkind eyes that would cook me if they could. 250711 what's it to you? who go blather from