Smashed

I walk towards a gang
of teenage girls
on the street corner.
One of them throws
an empty vodka bottle
to the pavement
with a brittle clank.

Awkwardly
she looks to me.
I say nothing,
I look into her vacant stare
as I walk past,
Knowing I've shared her state
many times

and so she's smashed,
but the bottle remains intact.