it's just a bottle,
broken by time
(encouraged by
a wandering brick)
streaked with scratches
(like your newly
purpled hair)
and tossed out
on the garbage heap
for rag pickers
to make a rupee off.
it's just a bottle,
dammit.
but once upon a time
it held good wine.
and it now holds
green light
and magic
and the sweet sour smell
of memory.
and while i cannot grudge
a rupee earned
i'd rather keep the bottle,
broken.
bottle, broken
traffic lights
red.
hobble hobble
clink clink
but
walled off
by a
rolled up
(fast! before she reaches us!)
window
hobble hobble
clink clink
orange... (honk! honk!)
green! (screech!)
hobble hobble
clink clink
hobble hobble
clink clink
a bottle full
a bottle full
of sunshine
pretty pretty
dark dark
stark
frozen
cold.
a bottle full
of sunshine
happy happy
blood blood
mud
squelchy
mold.
a bottle full
of sunshine
three days
old.
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