Ode to My Cup
By Jack F., Wilton, CT
Trapped within the oppressive earth
in the form of crude petroleum,
it was sucked out by great machines,
sent to a factory (smokestacks and all),
and crafted into Code Number 6 plastic.
This plastic, then blown with a gas
(heavy in chlorofluorocarbons)
to give it its beautiful rough texture,
was cast in a mold
and given its glorious form.
Complete in shape, my chalice
was put on an assembly belt
for a brief tour of the building and
to be stacked with his brothers
and wrapped in more plastic.
Ready for use,
it was then loaded on a plane
and sent across the country,
(consuming unknown amounts of fuel in the process)
where I bought it at supermarket, USA.
Thirsty one day,
I poured juice into my cup,
drank it in no more than two swigs,
said my good-byes,
and put it in the garbage bin.
Arriving at the dump,
it was placed atop a pile of various other plastics
where it will sit intact til the end of time
(assuming the planet lasts until then).
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