Monday, June 22, 2009

Water bottles

You leave your bottles of water
still wet with cold,
emptied and spent
on tables
in rooms
like a calling card.

Your safety device
is fifty centilitres
of nature’s finest,
screw topped, sports capped,
never flavoured
always favoured.

If you ever went missing,
(a thought that makes
me shrink and wince inside)
we would all know how
to follow
and find you.

Look for the Highland Spring.
The Volvic.
The hollowed blue plastic full,
of the magic substance
that gives your skin that glow.
I follow your trail.

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