I see
molten and nuclear amber glass,
this bottle trickling
like a stream flowing over a star
and I'm skipping songs
over it like stones

I see Rosalie take it
and wear it like gold
drapped across her neck
talking about the wine still
inside
the condensation and the night

a concrete cold landing, dancing
up the stairs, singing
that the world is sand
and sand becomes glass
and all is mirror like,
polished to reflect you,
the way you shine
incandecent, the

way you shine