* * *

Garbage in, garbage out.
What are you going to do with that smelly old trout?
Wrap it in crumpled aluminum foil
and hope it ossifies into an amusing gargoyle?
Have you ever thought about the origin of plastic?
It’s really quite fantastical and sarcastic.
We use it to preserve our leftover food,
and yet do not overheat has become a platitude.
Crumbs on the floor are swept up by a broom
to join the other contents of a cylinder-shaped tomb.

Garbage in, garbage out.
Watching the bald eagles makes me shout,
You should not be hunting for plastic bags
which are fastened tight with metal tags.
The feathered predators assembled in the trees,
patiently focused and appearing quite at ease.
Individually, they numbered fifty or more.
Taken as a whole, they embodied a cold war.
Their scrutiny reduced me to the size of a quail,
as the falling snowflakes created a murky veil.

Garbage in, garbage out.
Fires, flooding, avalanches and drought.
Alarmingly high and low temperatures
are certainly a recipe for misadventures.
Flocks of seagulls search asphalt parking lots
for discarded food hidden by paper bags and polka-dots.
A wind-born serviette with a red lipstick stain
no doubt searching for expensive champagne,
flutters by, no longer seeming out of place.
Its presence in the wild used to be a disgrace.

Garbage in, garbage out.
The world needs us to stop messing about.