The Bottle Drops

We interrupt this program
Tragedy in Paris, killed in a car crash, Princess Diana of Wales

Her fingers slip
The bottle drops
And falling in slow motion
The bottle hits
The stopper rolls across the bathroom floor

And hits a wall
And with a click
It's like a tiny trapdoor opens

A tiny hole, a metal box
A rusty hinge, a broken lock

Slowly crack the treasure open

Cat's eye marble, diecast car
A pocket knife, a chocolate bar
A watch that's waiting to be wound,
A treasure waiting to be found
I am Howard Carter stepping into Tutankhamun's tomb

Each object in the box was a breadcrumb leading to a dazzling idea

Give back the box

Wherever the owner was, she would find him
and return his childhood

I have to try

If he was touched, Amélie would become
an anonymous do-gooder

That would be her mission; anonymous good-deed-doer.

If I did, I could be like Lady Di-