l
Cata ogue
collect like action figures,
every new design a need
before it’s gone, no matter
what part-time student has
to smile at your demands
that you know there’s always
more in the back. Somehow,
you’ll get tired or bored and go
home with an overly named drink
with enough alterations to make
the name irrelevant, oblivious
to the noxious gas left behind
you, choking out the little
breathable air still left.
You slurp it through the plastic
straw and toss the plastic
cup in a dumpster with ice
more intact than the Arctic.
A week later you’ll get the cup
you so desperately needed in
four colors shipped across
three continents because of a
deal you just.
couldn’t.
pass.
up.
It will join the rest behind
the cabinet door to never
replace a disposable
plastic cup at the coffee shop
chain that wraps the planet
your bumper sticker begs
everyone to be kind to.