No Glass, Just The Bottle
by Chad Beattie

no glass, just the bottle

in the grand hours of the morning
when the cars stop pushing
and the wars
are put on halt, you can sometimes
the flowers weep

a poem about it

it's always better
the longer you've had it

a pair of jeans, holy socks,
a shelf full of antiques,
or a relationship

somehow the more
familiar it is,
the more attachment
you feel toward it

the more you can't
live without it

like a drug
you need it

whatever it might be

and when it changes
and when it leaves
and when it doesn't come back

it becomes nothing
and nothing becomes of it


the ticket sellers sell their tickets
and the plumbers plumb

the gardeners garden their gardens
and the dreamers dream

the horny fuck, the flowers bloom,
the living die, the dying live

the rich laugh, the poor sigh,
the weak whimper, the strong prosper

relationships fade, love dies,
reality consumes, sanity decreases

memories linger, hopelessness grins,
insanity increases, call the goddamn medic

or call the one I love

she won't answer
leave a message

tell her I love her

poor life lesson

there are some things in life
you can't escape

like hunger and tiredness
and sadness

there are other things
difficult to avoid
like sunlight and traffic
and meaningless small talk

then there are tragedies
you must face
like fear and death
and physical pain

although it isn't so easy,
there are few things
you can entirely erase

like a chalkboard or a memory
or a bad poem