i stared at the bottle.
a man was drinking.
tired, or perhaps droggy,
slamming it onto the counter.
crack. the base had a fine crack.
the water leaking. leaking out.
that bottle.
its labelling and ancient fonts appealing?
i had to do something.
"fill it" the voices said.
desperately, rushing back and forth again and again.
topping it from its mouth with fresh water.
so that it remained full.
only to realise.
such full was only ever that full for a second?
for its crack existed, its contents always emptying downward.
as i stared, again and again,
there was no solution.
only flusters, anguish.
and a continuing helplessness.
there were no faults. only foolishness.
as i sat by the bottle. pouring a next glass full of water.
wishing i had access to the glass moulding factory.
Labels: expression, memory
