I am
in an ice cube
bumping walls
in a glass jug,
rubbing shoulders with mint
and sliced fruit.
Yes the brandy and soda
are gorgeous.
But I want more.
Let me out!
I'll soften my stories
of things done and doing,
so distrubing you less
with our differences.
Maybe it is I
as both ice and ice cube
and-in-it-too
and none other's fault.
But no,
I do not think it so.
2001
