I sat at my desk by the printers of MIT Press and looked up at a cardboard blowup of one of the titles: Sky in a bottle. And it was then I thought to myself, wow, that should be something. So below is the result of both my boredom and my attempts at creativity (also, I have no idea as to what the book is actually about).
Sky in a bottle, a tribute in narrative form
by Alexa L.
Play a song for me. A wish. But grasshoppers only sing when nobody looks, you know, like me when I go in the backyard to dance. No one can see the twirls and twists, the way my skirt moves under the cover of the trees. I dance to the music of the grass, to the hum and buzz and chirp of nature. It is when I fall backward and sink my feet into the dirt that I hunt for my orchestra, my jumping bugs. And the ones I catch between my palms aren’t always green. Sometimes they have brown speckles or charcoal-colored wings. They hop in my little hands, then out them. And I follow, casting shadows and chasing sounds.
It was on a day like this I found it, peeking from the grass like a gem. A present for you, something whispered, a voice that reminded me of peanut butter and jelly, or playing on swings. “For me?” I gestured with my hand, then looked around. I could see nothing but the brown of my fence and the glass doors that welcomed me home. Well then, aren’t you going to pick it up? The voice again, louder than a whisper now.
I walked toward the glint and knelt down to look. It was just a bottle, small and made of glass. When I picked it up to examine it further, I noticed a tiny grasshopper on its lid. Be careful, please.
“What’s in it?”
The sky, my dear. For you, the sky.
I peered into the glass, as careful as could be. The inside of the glass held sunshine and rain, clouds and birds and snow and wind. The sky in a bottle. A present for me from my orchestra.
The sky, my dear. For you, the sky.
I lifted the grasshopper to my lips and whispered thank you. He bowed, his wings moving backward like the bow on a violin. He sang as I danced, with nobody looking on but us and the sky.
(So I had to leave for my softball game before I could write any more…didn’t seem right to finish it outside the press. Or maybe that is the end. Who knows?)
Chirp.