bottle neck

i would walk barefoot 
on the moon if you let me.
there are rocks in the sky
& rocks in the mailbox. i drive
without a car through a night
full of police. in the traffic throat 
we are playing a bad radio. we are
calling the sun down into 
a plastic water bottle. i do not
have enough fingers for everything
i need to do. hold the egg. 
break the door. excavate the heart.
we dig with our bloodied nails
in the bottle dump in the hopes
of finding a medicine. an antidote.
the vessels all arrive empty.
i want time to be less liquid. i find
i spend way too much of is trying
to carry the day elsewhere. 
out of the well. into bank accounts.
into wet dollars. instead, i want 
my time to come like glass. something
to look through. to break & forge again.
green glass not like a beer bottle but
like a jar of airplane light. i do not 
even know how to bleed anymore.
my time keeps turning into birds. 
i catch them & feel sorry for them so 
i always end up letting them go
with a handful of cereal. when the road
opens up it is like we were never waiting.
like the moon was never in the cupboard.
the police are still there though 
doing inscrutable machine things
on car computers. the clouds smooth
their skirts. we try to get home.