and the ocean cries

I am confused on my daily walk
The same thoroughfare every day
Sometimes twice a day
My pockets fill with beer cans
Powerade plastic, fast food trash

Appearing identical to that
I picked up for recycling the day before
And the day before
anger rises against an invisible no one.
And I use a chunk of asphalt
Breaking the beer bottles on the
Railroad tracks
Returning them to the earth
The only way I know how
And preventing some errant transient
From using them at my throat

Still, I am confused.
How could we be a society
That still thinks
Plastic tossed
From a car window
Passes for recycling?

How could generations
Still be missing the whole
Earth is Dying Routine?

Can we not see
Interstate highways powdered
White with trash?
Who does the individual think
Picks up after them?

I guess they think
A you and a me
Exist for this sole purpose.
Where do we teach that?
Who learns that?

How can so many miss that vast ocean
Of slurpee cups
Waving at their feet?

The psychology in me
Wonders if it is some sort of statement
Look I am bad, I drank a beer while I was driving
Or
Huh, it’s ok to put these terrible chemicals in me
But I ain’t leaving no cig butts in MY CAR.

I stare awhile
At a plastic pop bottle
Filled with a vile green/gold substance.
And leave it for fear it will explode
My pockets are full
Of spiky cans and twisted plastic

I’ll be back
Tomorrow.

One comment

  1. Fantastic. I feel the same way when I see trash here and there, I pick it up, take it home, make sure it goes in my recycling bin. Everyone should have to go out and see the sea of plastic floating in the Horse Latitudes (reference “great garbage swirl in Pacific”). Humbling, humbling. That’s why I figure every piece we pick up helps. This poem should be published far and wide to make people THINK. Littering — how OLD-FASHIONED. ***mcb***

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