The last bottle,
once knocked over,
drained quickly.
When someone
set it right, there was
less than a quarter remaining.
At that point
someone far less thirsty
than we were threw it away.
It drained its last
into the trash bucket.
We were left wanting.
Any of us
would have taken that little bit
to tide us over.
Any one of us
would have shared it
with the others.
We died
thinking of the one
who threw it away,
no doubt with the best
of intentions. No doubt
that they saw themselves
as virtuous, perhaps even
slightly messianic.
No doubt in our fading moments
that had they even seen us
sitting there parched,
they would have pitied us.