first-world surplus

They appeared as a gift or purchase,
One wonders if mostly done by impulse,
Too much stuff for not much purpose
Other than create a first-world surplus.

All take up space,
Always in my face
For use only once in a while,
Not enough to justify the pile.

Off they go,
Time to let them flow
To those who can use them
And would find each a gem.

At one time they were a good buy,
Now I have to fare them good-bye.
Energy I must muster
To help me declutter.

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