Winter 2001
	Angela Rydell
	I'm Alone and You're a Bottle
	In you, empty blue bottle on the windowsill, people walk on a paved sky, turn a swimming, sun-stroked periwinkle. Birds fly backwards and upside-down, traffic is truncated, tiny, curving into nothingness.
	Sunlight filters through, and you, open-mouthed and tinted blue, are learning the world's so silly, and nothing sticks around long enough.
	I know, I've been at the window too, standing there all blue, watching the world come and go, unable to hold on to any of it.