wind_like_water raze nausea grips you deep in its sternum. makes you weak. you stagger down the stairs to your bed without a box spring, muscle memory and heavy cloth giving back some of what's been taken. if i stand where the floor is uneven i can almost feel the ground beneath this wood. i can almost hear it sigh. there's a fear that grows out of bringing another person into the world, that keeps them young in your mind through all the years of their life. it works the other way too. you're my child just as much as i'm yours. the wind sounds like water rushing from a garden hose that doesn't care who or what it hits, covering someone's house with a blanket of cold. there'll be ice come morning, but it won't be ours. a few geese honk overhead. just long enough to let us know they're alive. then there's only us and the steady breathing of a city that can't fall asleep. 220110 what's it to you? who go blather from