bottle

tatters of snow across a midnight avenue, broken bottle big bang against the slushy curb. simultaneously humorous and full of fear, first thought to mind: "that's a new one." they stand in the veil of snowfall, wordless, mouthless, without even the imagination to back up their split-second prank. maybe a bullshit potential is uneasily born, the story fit to be twisted to serve badass reimaginings or the shaking of selves. the silence bothered you more than the action, or your own inaction, inability to respond to action with no bottle of your own as the scot once said. woman tugs your arm along giving a classic flavor to the drama. you were on your way to the bar anway, like getting injured in the emergency room.