brown bag

happiness
in a bottle, ambered
bug juice,
gold and brusque down
the flesh
pipe
the tongue stung
with the sluice
of liquor,
the mouth
alive with a burst
of something
not unlike pain
or pleasure
but mischief uncapped.
happiness
in a bottle, bagged
brown and kept
snug
in the thick overcoat.
hidden from judges eyes,
sipped on
in a shadow, under a bridge
on the roof
where the pigeons
in cages, unlike you
wait to go home,
and fly.