Summer Swig

The water bottle
still capped
on the countertop
beside where a wallet laid.
Keys retrieved and pocketed.
A yellow miniature duffle
once laid on the rug below;
a mess of oil splotched wrenches,
drivers, machine odored rags, and
electrical odds inside.
A bead of ice cold condensation
rolls down its shimmering body
to pool at counter's edge.
Each droplet begs for
the kiss of human lips
on their way down.
Pops and a sudden hiss
from the bottle mouth:
impatience!  "Drink me"
the ice inside demands.
Too late remembered.
Too far at work.
Warm as the day is long
by the time
home is gained once more.
Water bottle
poured and capped fresh
returned to tomorrow's
freezer door.