I'm Alone and You're in a Bottle
In you, empty blue bottle on the windowsill,
people walk on a paved sky,
turn a swimming, sun-stroked periwinkle.
Birds fly backwards and upside-down,
traffic is truncated, tiny, curving into nothingness.
Sunlight filters through, and you,
open-mouthed and tinted blue, are learning
the world's so silly,
and nothing sticks around long enough.
I know, I've been at the window too,
standing there all blue, watching
the world come and go,
unable to hold on to any of it
by Angela Rydell
from Barrow Street, Winter 2001