spaceship water

i drink everything from little rockets
because i am traveling & there are
no more watering holes.
sometimes money feels like rain.
like when it's here it's really here
& when it's gone there is nothing
you can do to conjure it. i think
i am an amphibian who was 
wrongly classified at birth. 
if i watch the news the news will start
watching me. i say, "i want to reuse
this story" the story says,
"sorry, this is a single-use narrative.
you will need to rent it again
if you want to try to say something
about staying alive." i wave my hand.
i cannot handle another subscription.
the water starts to taste like blood
& i get a conspiracy in my bones
that each bottle has a person in it.
a man captured in a ray gun & forced
into cool liquid. i pour it out in a trash can
to be sure. a miniature waterfall.
people come & watch. take pictures.
the wonders of the world are shrinking.
it is a glorious night if i am full
& my hands have no holes in them.
i buy another water bottle & another.
the ocean, refuses to give in to ai
& disappears. not the water just
the whole thing. a void where
the sharks used to mistake us for seals
& leave disappointed. i hope one day
that drinking fountains bloom. that
instead of sips we step into them
fully with our clothes on & drink
like any real salamander. the caps
always sound like cracked knuckles
when they open. someday a big
lovely stranger will twist my neck
& take the biggest gulp of their life.