More than once—
I've stuck
some shit
I bought
in multiples, without
thinking—from someone
who bought it
from someone
who bought
it from someone who
Probably stole it—
into the most
delicately fluted crimson and
cobalt glass bowl
that my older
Brother Jeff made
one Christmas, alone
in his
basement—
and just
left
it there—next to the Nutty
Bars by the
windowsill—until,
either
it rotted—
or I
bought more.