POETRY READING: Plastic Water Bottle, by Tatiana Rivera

Performed by Val Cole

The Plastic Water Bottle Tossed
Carelessly In The Middle Of The Road
By A Pimply Teenager Wearing Too
Much Makeup And Too Little Clothes.

The last drop was swallowed, but the
cap was carefully screwed back on.
A chipped black fingernail pushed down
on the button. She didn’t even look at the
water bottle flying down to the ground.
Scraping its side on the gravel, the poor bottle
lies. It waits expectantly to be placed in the recycle
bin. But instead, an H3 Hummer rolls right over it.
Only a hiss is heard from the bottle losing it’s only
friend, the cap. But no one ever puts them back together.
The water bottle lies in the middle of the street for days.
No one understands it. It feels so alone. It feels rejected
and neglected. The clouds turn gray and the poor bottle is
carried away. On the side of the curb it lies. All broken
and hurt and missing its friend. A group of uniformed children
walk by the bottle as it thinks that finally it will get home.
For children are taught the beauty of the earth and will surely
not destroy it. But one happy kid kicks the bottle out of his way as
another one spits out his chewed flavorless wad of gum.
The bottle no longer feels like living. It has lost its faith in humanity.
Trash day! The bottle thinks. It will get swept up by the street sweeper
and it will be saved! Here it comes. It’s close. Finally I will be free. The
bottle feels the wonderful bristles of the sweeper brush it away. The
bottle begins to fall into the hole in the side of the road. It hits the murky
bottom with a thud. The bottle begins to cry and moan, but still no one
pays attention. A wave of gray water washes the bottle into the sea. The
bottle doesn’t know how to swim, but it floats. It drifts on the surface of
the sea for one hundred days. A whale filter feeds the poor bottle and
excrements it a few days later. But the whale will never be the same. The
whale’s digestive tract is permanently damaged. And the whale will die.
The bottle feels like it’s its fault the poor whale has washed up on the
sandy shore. A loud cry of despair is bellowed by the whale as it drowns
in the stale dirty air. The bottle has become numb. It doesn’t care about
anything anymore. It doesn’t even try to fight the gray gull as it pecks it
with its beak, holes into the bottles side. It could care less that the pieces
the gull pecked will kill the gulls nest. The bottle lies still as a pelican
swallows the bottle along with the tiny fish at its side. The pelican flies
far back into the land. And drops the bottle on the sand. For days the
bottle melts in the sun, but still it couldn’t care. A group of girl scouts pick
up the bottle and other trash. The bottle ends up in a black plastic bag in
a green trash can full of other crushed plastic bottles. A big green truck
stops and a little man with chubby hands picks up the black bag and flings
it onto the truck. The bottle has lost all feeling as it rides in the truck and is
thrown into a big hole the size of a 100 feet pool. The bottle slowly rots in
the bag, but not quickly. For 7,000 years the plastic bottle waits to be able
to feel again. Anything. Even pain. But the humans are dead. And the
animals are poisoned. A desolate land of plastic bottles and caps never
to become one again. Finally on a mercury day, the plastic bottle decays.

T.Riv

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film.

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