Disposable Philosophy

Look at the pretty plastic baubles

Strung around necks, purchased with quarters

Neon clashing with neon

Hearts and crosses and yin-yangs and smiley faces

Traded between hands on the playground, admired

Because they're shiny, though you don't know what they mean

Stowed in magpie boxes like treasure

Except treasure would have survived the fire

It wouldn't melt and crack and burn your skin

Tomorrow it's on the curb

Because you grew up, or that's what the others called it

When silently they told you

That everyone is an animal

Squalling through dumpsters

Until you die and become garbage yourself

But some of us

Have found gold in the ashes