I sit in the courtyard, baggie of friendly snacks in hand.

I sit in the courtyard,
baggie of friendly snacks in hand.
A friend walks by, shaking his head. Why?
The bag is plastic.
The consumerist plague I bought into,
fuels his distaste.
Yet he is hungry, so I share.
He no longer cares about the bag.
We remain friends.
 
I take a drink out of my bag.
It is Nestle Pure Life.
He backs up a few paces, tenses up, ready to inform.
But I am fast and remind him of Carlin.
 
He calms his stance and relaxes with the reminder.
 
My love of plastic is intact.
 
There is no bicycle.

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