A spent Patron bottle
A spent Patron bottle.
He woke to the chill of four A.M. He’d slept in his car, convertible top down. After five minutes, the windshield cleared of its dew. He drove home.
Seven inches tall, five inches wide. Height exceeds breadth.
The oriental fan is colorful and ornate. He sees the red dragon as orange. All of his visions are orange. His hopes and dreams, melding, intermingling, crying out, for orange. A memory flashes. A rainbow over a field of soybeans. A rainbow caused by the irrigation apparatus. A “farmbow.” Too many colors on a bright day.
A bag of mustard seeds. A fount of limitless faith.
Many afternoons. He remembers. Walks on the beach. Looking for heart-shaped stones. Searching for scraps of sea glass. Searching for answers. Seeking rainbows. Red orange yellow blue indigo violet. Seeking solace. And then, he woke. Act three, scene one.
Laid flat, the bag is 20% full of seeds. Held upright, 10% full. Breadth exceeds height when standing.
The first night, she’d left an earring behind. The second night, two earrings. She never returned to claim them. She’s moving to Colorado.
Words on the page are obscured behind the rough, spent Patron bottle.Through the smooth shard of sea glass as well. But least through the ridge. In the corner is clarity. In glass and in life. The ridge is twice as wide as the surrounding glass, where it rises to its peak. The bottle has a slight greenish tint. Green is red’s complement. Time has cleared its contents. No longer is the scent discernible.
A week later, he drove his car into a ditch. 2:30 A.M. By three A.M. he’d extricated the car and arrived home. At six A.M. he woke to go to the gym. Changing life. Height exceeds breadth. All colors lead to black. All thoughts fade to orange.
“Does every question need an answer?” This was the question he pondered. This was the answer he sought. He chuckled at the irony.
Posted in: Poetry