At the bottom
of a river,
under the shallow, steady current,
a CD lies,
label-side down
reflecting the sun
into my eyes.
I walk past,
with bags of cheap books
I probably won’t read,
At ease
with my lot,
and how it came to me.
And to someone, somewhere,
the CD,
on the pebbles
at the bottom of the river
Once meant so much more
than it does today,
yet to me,
it means little more
than these few words