Apr. 3rd, 2003

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The Bottle

I have in my hand here a brown bottle.
Guess what's inside.
It's not an imp or a devil or a magical porter
To carry you and your chattels away from Isfahan.
It's not a poison to remove the king like a blot,
Or a bomb to blow the president out of his chair.
It's not even nothing.
Or a dust filled syrup with the properties of gall and eglantine
Or a droplet of the blood of St Mercurius the Alchemist.
It's not even Coca Cola.
It's not anything at all.
It's simply what it is.
Here, drink it.
The cork is old and thin.
The liquid itself runs smoothly from the lip.
The fragrance reminds one of a dead brick.
The texture is like rain lying in a pubble of blood.
The taste is a mixture of crows tears and old iron compounded of straw and sticks.
It changes you
Into something different
From what you were before.
Actually, it's plain water.
It's the act of guessing that changes you.
And it stings on the way down.

-Al Levine

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