Bottle in a message

I pity the gifted,
so busy, so driven!
Mediocre lives
have all the best of it,
We cautionary tales,
or are we just an audience
for some dumb universal mime,
flecks of scintillation, fire lit
lips, eye shadow, assaulting scent?
When the last curtain falls like a
plague of locusts on my last
remaining hope, will I have eyes to see
or any mind to remember you?
Did you sit beside me in the bleachers,
did we laugh or cry?
Let me call for my Mercedes and
go home.