you don't separate
plastic
or paper, cans or bottles.
you toss
them all into
the same bag.
you read where the sun
will burn out
at some point.
having exhausted its flame,
turning itself into
a cold
black spot in the sky.
this makes you happy,
eases
the guilt about
the trash you bag,
carry to the curb,
set out.
Sunday, December 28, 2014
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