At the Dump

We haul in our garbage;
Glimpses of our lives revealed.
Empty boxes shipped from Amazon,
Paper bags from Trader Joe’s brimmed
Full of glass, paper, and plastics.

The transfer station makes it easy—
No need to separate the recyclables.
Bring all in one big receptacle.

The bordered grounds contain our mess and stink;
We drive away feeling light and free,
Happy to dump our stench,
Thinking all our trash is gone for good.

But they come back to haunt us,
In ways we connect with other causes.
Next time, let’s pause . . .
Try to limit our toss.

©2015 Karina Pinella