Through the red bottle the world is red.
Through the blue bottle, otherwise.
When I moved away
I put a stopper in.
What was home was contained.
Bottle of Paris air—unopenable or it loses
what it was made it separate. Stop.
What was home is unreturnable
What was time is stoppered
a solid line between me and
what was returnable about me
about home.
Home is as Eryn says on my head
and I take my bottle with me no
I take my stopper.
I stop home off to make it
something I can point to.
That there.