I love plastic bottles of lighter fluid on a back porch
next to an old chair, pale blue paint cracking in the weather
dirty boots kicking it over steered by drunken feet
there are stories that i cant know about that bottle
how it is old, and hardly used,
slightly watered down because the cap was never fastened tight
how it holds the screen door open for groceries, for laundry, for goodnight kisses
how its a shrine, or a legend
or a fraud, holding only water
or the chair has become too attached over the years,
and the inside tenants cant bare to separate them
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