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
hear
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
Angi
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
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