The Empties

The Empties

Full shampoo bottle stacked
on top of the empty,
new roll of toilet paper propped up
by bare cardboard tube.
Every need a phoenix, a lack
to be solved by flinging
forth the new. Here, four beers
in brown glass, and in
return, give me what’s left over
from the four you drank,
just the vessels. An even trade,
matter to consume and
then a container holding nothing.
Wait, is this world a
bottomless Pez Dispenser or not,
what day do they
replenish the vending machines
around here. You’ll
never get your nickel deposit back
because you forgot
you gave us any money, you forgot
that we take things
and use them up until we forget
that these glass jars,
roosting and beautiful on our shelves,
are our prizes for
having finally run out of everything.