bottle blue

bottle blue

we’re all just
so many vessels,
clinking together
on Sunday buses.

entirely at the mercy
of brakes; we rock
forward,
we rock backward.

later…
before…

we ebb and eddy;
watery lives half-filled.

on a good day
we might chime
with one another.

mostly we are all
discordant, bottled notes.

all too soon,
we will be done.

neat rows awaiting recycling.
lined up as
unrelated empties.