The Bottle Didn’t Answer

A smell of piss suddenly hit his nose.

A warm sensation running from the half-opened fly to the hole right above the knee of his right jeans leg. 

He couldn’t hold it anymore so he did it right there on the sidewalk.

Lying down with him on his left, at head height, the remainder of his last beer was also pissing out of its bottle and onto the cold hard pavement.

“My muse abandoned me”

“You deserved it”

“Yes… I’m a bastard”

“Did I deserve it?”

The question imbued with self-hatred and regret, gently wrapped in a sincerely amused half-laugh.

“Yes.. yes you did you know you did you little drunken scoundrel”

His red and veiny face turned to the bottle and asked,

“are you my friend?”

But the bottle didn’t answer.

“Are you…”

“Yes. The best you’ll ever have”

“No…you’re not… but I’ll pretend like you are just for tonight” he said, turning to look at the warm yellow mess on his pants.

“Why must it be this way? Why couldn’t I be normal?”

“Yes… just like my old friend Mike, that I… is working his 9 to 5 and I see him with a smile every time we meet at the bar.”

“I was once… free”

He turned his face towards his fake glass friend.

“Tell me why”

But the bottle didn’t answer.

A sudden sadness struck. 

Like a punch on his gut.

With a contraction of the muscles, he tried to resist it for a moment but then decided to let go and let his body savor it all.

A single gentle tear started coming down from the corner of his right eye, traversing his upper cheek and hurrying to reach the ground.

A river starved for the sea.

The size of a life, his heart melted and relaxed in a melancholic lullaby of images and memories.

Moon saw him lying down on that distant pavement upon the distant earth.

She decided to come out of the dark cold winter clouds and shine a light on him.

 

An unexpected presence over him.

An all-encompassing forgiving radiance.

He turned his head to look up to the sky.

 

Moon stood there silent.

An aura of indifferent affection.

 

 

Tell me moon in this night, if you shine just for me

On the streets are gleaming fireflies, but you’re the only  one I see

Suffocating I was under the weight of the earth

With broken knuckles that never healed

With vast dreams upon the tips of my fingers

And you never came to me

 

Moon didn’t answer but listened closely to the man on the street.

 

Tell me moon how you never blow out

that you will shine on me

of which you will never wear out

Maybe one day, if anything

We will watch our reflection upon the seas

With the void standing between our charms and fears

And our fingers almost touching

and the lines I will murmur in your ear

I stretch my hands out but I don’t know

if I’ll ever touch you, dear

 

 

“Ah… what am I doing”

“Talking to an half-empty bottle and the moon with its stars”

A comforting silence and a warm familiar smell of piss.

“You betrayed me”

The drunken bum startled in terrified surprise.

Moon gave him a couple of moments to cool down.

“Did I hear…I’m wasted…what the…”

“You turned your back and cheated on me with filthy sluts for some spare change”

“I… I know”

“You are a scumbag. I hate that I love you”

“So you still…”

“I gave you everything and I wanted to give you more.”

“I just…”

“I chose you to spread beauty on your distant earth. 

 I would have nurtured you and kissed you and blessed you”

“Is it too late?”

“I would have cleansed you from all of your sins.”

 I would have given birth to you again.”

“Is it too late?

“You would have been reborn.”

“Is it too late?”

But not the bottle, nor the moon, answered.

 

He stretched out his left arm.

The hand timidly opened in an attempt to receive some ethereal gift from the skies.

Time became dense for a moment.

Not a single breath of air.

 

And the grass stopped being grass.

And the stars stopped being stars.

And the eyes became fires.

And the bones became ice.

 

For a moment.

“Are you here just to make me regret?”

“Yes.”

His tired muscles lost the eternal war against gravity.

His hands came down under his head and transformed into an exceptionally uncomfortable pillow.

His body turned to the side.

Eyelids transmuted into soft drifting curtains for the sight.

Staring at the cracks in the concrete.

 

 

Tell me moon in this night

how many things I still not know

and the ways in which I am wrong

and surely I will be so

Shaking I was in a corner of dark

while you looked over here

shining just enough 

to warm without a burn, my dear

 

 

Moon stood still.

With a benevolent gesture, she slowly unveiled herself from the remaining clouds she was still wearing.

Like one skirt too many, the last cloud came down.

Like dimmed stage lights, the stars shone softly.

 

Maybe one day, if anything

we will dance above the city lights

floating in the air here and there

like ghosts of different times

and in a breeze you and I

will fade away behind the clouds

On the notes of a waltz

that never winds up

 

Moon took his shaking hands.

“I had not felt your warm touch in a while.”

“I hate you.” 

she whispered while putting her feet upon his.

 

“I was waiting for you”

softly brushing the small of her back.

 

“Look at you, you disgust me.”

“Don’t you like my latest bum look? Huh?”

 

She could not hold out a smile.

But immediately, it vanished.

 

“After what you did, I can’t look you in the eye anymore.”

“But I meant well.”

“I know.”

“Plus, how can we tango without looking each other in the eye?”

 

She smiled.

This time for good.

 

With a sudden movement, he firmly grabbed her waist and right hand and abducted her among the shooting stars.

All the other heavenly bodies were pondering the scene out of the corner of their eyes and quietly whispering among them.

Trying to get a little closer, but not too much to be obvious.

Judging from a distance, to escape their gravitational pull.

Trying to dismiss the couple, rationalize, scheme, plot and underplay.

But the two of them didn’t notice any of that.

It was just a buzz, while they were creating a music that pleased the ears of the cosmos.

Dancing a waltz for decades, like ancient ghosts upon the reflecting seas.

 

“Is it too late?”

 

“As you said, my love.

 It never winds up.”

* * *

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