You know you want to.

Come closer, see

my translucent tendrils waving

in the current.

I was once living, like you.

I knew fire and pain

as my molecules collided

and merged.

I once served a purpose.

I held energy in place,

restrained it

with these tempting jellyfish arms.

Come closer, little one.

Let me wrap your neck in my love,

fill your stomach with my bulk.

I want to feel,

to be alive once more,

to serve my purpose,

before I drift for eons

in hot, dead seas.

I felt like I served the greatest purpose

As a wrapper.

Why?

Because I was an outer shell

a layer of cover.

I felt like I was appreciated the least

As a wrapper.

Why?

Because the care wasn't

directed towards me

But rather towards

what lay within me.

I felt like a shield.

If I got injured

it would be okay

because it doesn't matter

as long as what's inside

remains.

But guess what?

That's okay

because without me

food could not be distributed.

I don't have to be the focus

to be important.

I was something before that fated moment.

I was something special in your eyes, you hands and most especially your heart. I think of how it felt seconds before it ended. Where I became the thing that you simply looked at and shrugged and didn't need me anymore.

I remember when we first met. What felt like minutes ago. You waited for me. The line was busy on that particular that day. But you were craving something, and when you saw my name illuminated under cheap lights, you chose me.

That was just minutes before I was ever loved, wanted. Hell, even needed. But I didn't understand the desperation of that type of want until I found myself against this hardness seconds before red turned to green.

Let's back it up quite a bit.

This wasn't the first time I had heard the stories. I've even heard about my friends being returned - untouched - because they weren't "so and so" what they want.

I heard the murmurs, that the customer is always right. I guess we are always going to return to the place we begin.

For the most part of my existence, I did a lot of traveling. I wished for the day I would be warmed up by what they called was care and wanting. They always referred to us to being easy to love because we were fast, ready and good for the at least the most part the soul. So I waited so patiently, knowing one day it would be my chance.

I traveled through a state or so, never really seeing the world, but I always overheard their words. The cravings, the lust, the want, and mostly the desire at the late hours. I didn't care what time it was, to be just be desired was enough.

But regardless, of the infinite amount of never really understanding what they meant of the rumors of being smashed and discarded, I still could care less. That wouldn't be me, I was destined for much more.

I heard about this place through the others. Something that said cuold be considered the most notable place to be in this city. Well, notable or popular or convenient. Not sure, but I was optimistic.

It sounded wonderful. So many others that I had travelled with had told stories about how lucky and appreciated we would be there. That we would be truly loved...to pieces. I always wanted to know how they were doing once I heard them creak away. Silently, wishing them the best of luck, jealousy creeping as burning as a freezer burn.

I was always so patient. I knew my time would come. I heard the creak off the tires as they stopped. But it was the first time, I felt the gentle, but somewhat unsteady hands of what was followed by a gruff breath near me.

I felt as we moved, my entire being swelled. So giddy was this anticipation that I hoped would finally be what I had always wanted.

Instead the unfamiliar conversations followed, indistinct voices and again more creaking. I felt us stop abruptly. I shivered. It was even colder wherever we are at now. I wasn't sure whether there had been a mistake. I thought they spoke of warmth. The ones that ended up being sent back. They said it wasn't because they were wrong, they were just a mistake for that person.

I felt so bad because I could hear them cry silently, and then there were no more cries. Sometimes, I fear that I will be the one that will be on the front lines waiting, thrill running through me....and then the almost immediate disturbance of a final dream taken away so suddenly.

I held myself to the resolve that that would not be the case. Not me, I was destined for the what I have been hoping for since my creation. Warmth.

It felt like much more than an eternity when I heard the crackle. The blue eyes that looked down, I expected something much more, but they barely glanced for a second. The confusion started to set in.

Immediately, before I knew it, I was with next to my friends, who had shared the wonderment and dreams with me since we could remember.

It happened so fast though. I heard my name being called. What? So soon? It felt like seconds before they started to wrap me. Ah, the warmth! I knew they hadn't been lying!

Eventually, I was snugging up next to some good old friends. I could feel their own relief near mine swelled up in anticipation.

The hand off seemed a bit pushy, but I decided it was because they were just as excited about me as I was of them.

But the rough set down did shake my spirit slightly, almost an afterthought. I could feel a slight hope pass. It's much darker than I thought. I always assumed there would be light.

Soon, their hands came though shuffling among my friends and I. Something much smaller than expected wrapping around my being. Unwrapping slowly. I felt a halt, pause two times. I realized I never knew what came to fruition after the beginning.

But suddenly, there was a random jolt, and I felt the wave of warm wind. I heard an exasperated yell during my propelment. "I told you not to keep the window down!"

"Well, you shouldn't have slammed on your breaks!" Another voice.

"Well, grab the other one. We are late."

I heard screeching as I hit very roughly. I laid there, this type of warming was uncomfortable.

I barely heard them saying, "It's ok they are biodegradable." And as the voice faded away, quickly after, "Well, most of it is."

I lay here, discarded paper towels and bits of corrugated cardboard as my bed, my will to slip back into society sapped. With no roof above, my pockmarked skin browns in the sun.

Pulling strips of newspaper around myself, I tried to think back on the times when I had been happier--when I hadn't been so hollow--to see if I could scrounge up something of my former self.

You see, I had had a family. We were an inseparable bunch--sisters constantly bumping into each other and exchanging blows so much you'd think our parents would have sold us off to the farm.

But each scrape and bruise came from a place of love, and I cherished each scar.

A single man changed our entire life in an instant. At first, I thought I had been lucky to be chosen--my sisters, in fact, had been green with envy. But as soon as he ripped me away from my family, he changed. He became ravenous. Unconsolable. A man who lived for his voracious appetite, and not a single thing, including myself, could stop his violent hunger.

He tore through me, peeling away my self-worth bit by bit until I became nothing but skin and air. I had tried to cry out, tried to warn my family, but each cry had met his muffled grunts that demanded obedience.

After he had finished with me, he went for my sisters.

I opened my eyes.

I had survived somehow. He had taken my pride, my fullness of youth, my dignity. But stringy veins held me, and my skin, though withered, had toughed. Though I lie among refuse, I am not discarded.

One day, I will stand again.

What am I? (Answer below)

*

*

*

(answer: I am a banana peel.)

A rotting apple lies naked on the concrete.

Its delicious taste has faded

replaced by a brown texture.

Maggots have taken up residents on its raw flesh.

It only has a couple of bite marks.

Left uneaten and exposed to the elements.

Ignored by some, kicked by others.

Once loved even if it was for a fleeting moment.

Alone and Abandoned.

I sit here and receive all these different things which I like, even if they think that they are trash and disposable. I sit here and observe like a pure mirror, which people cannot be, though they dream of it relentlessly. If they knew what privileged position I am in, they would envy me very much. Luckily for them, I am just a piece of the environment that manages perfectly to blend in the universe, even if I am a limited human creation, not even a product of cutting edge technology.

But that does not really matter because the same vibrations are maintaining my core and are the reason of my existence. So stay tuned and open your heart, and maybe next time a butterfly lands on me I'll be able to use it as a mail delivery service and reach up to you, though you might even not know it when it happens. Maybe I did it already but you are trapped in your prison-like intellect of yours.

You know, it's getting a little bit crowded in here - we are beginning to overflow from this lovely plastic container that you keep rapidly tossing us in. By the way what is with the sigh each time you fling us through the air? Not like you are being thrown and bounced around before finally landing in or near that container. Bit of an attitude there....and by the way we have been talking and we are starting to get a little bit of complex here. What do you mean we are "not good enough?"

You created us...maybe you should spend a little time developing and growing us...you have no idea what you have actually let slip through your hands. With just a little bit of your faith and a little more effort on your part some of us were not all that bad...maybe we could've been a contender....I'd like to think NYT Best Seller baby, but here we are scattered thoughts.., we will never know as we didn't get that chance....

You took me in your one hand

You took a sip and then you left me

You looked at the ocean

So sad, holding your tears

You took me again in your arms

Wondered for how long?

Why you do this to your self?

Crying for him and then go back

Take another sip and leave me down

How could you use me to put in me alcohol?

Have you wondered that you could just recycle me?

Why you always throwing my juice and refill me with that?

You take another shot and another, more and more

Now I am empty and you are drunk

Now you stand up and here he comes

You will go back to him again

How could you?

You threw me in the sand like I meant nothing.

In the morning the sun will burn me

Little by little, I will be no use

How could you?

You were supposed to throw me in the rubbish

Recycle me, so I can be used again

Instead you polluted the ocean

Why humans love to destroy?

They never cared for the trouble they making

Don't they know how we have feelings to?

Why to pollute earth?

In this small world,

Humans destroy their world

Piece by piece

How did they end up here?

In the morning I will be dead!

Buried in the sand,

For another creature to chew me,

And maybe die because of me

I'm only a plastic

People treat me like I'm nothing

They throw me in the ocean, to the woods, streets etc.

No one cares for the damage

I'm only a plastic

I can go to the rubbish

I can be used again if in need

I give you water, juice, drinks.

I'm only a plastic

I give more than a drink

I'm only a plastic

And you treat me like nothing

I'm only a plastic

And you do not respect me

You do me what you want

Your actions may hurt more than you know

You say you do recycle

When you only do the exact opposite

After all

I'm just only a plastic to you!

The temperature that night was cold, not freezing, but pretty close. Cold was good, it kept the food from rotting. Hurbert did not know why people would throw away perfectly edible food, but he was glad nonetheless. After all, if they did not throw the food away, than he would not be able to eat. He knew to stay clear of uncooked meats that were tossed, his gut's memory from when he ate the raw, moldy thing of salmon still as fresh as ever, but the fruits, breads, and juices were amazing. Sometimes the fruit juice would give him a little buzz if it had turned the right way.

That night, some time in October, Hurbert no longer had his watch or anyway to tell time or the date, Hurbert was at his favorite dumpster. He called it corny, because it was bright yellow and it was always overflowing with new tossed foods from the all-you-can-eat buffet it was behind. Hurbert dug throw the recent food: strawbarries, rolls of bread, chuncks of steak and octopus, a bit of pasta sauce with meatballs. He collected his plastic bowl and spoon from the folds of his ragged coat and collected a bit of everything. Humming to the tune of radio station the buffet was playing, an old pop song, he pocketed a few more rolls before grabbing his cart and heading towards the end of the parking lot. He did that because he knew from experience that the guards would called if he stayed out there when one of the staff took the trash out. He had already had his share of prison and he did not want to spend another night on the cold cell floor.

"Hmm, that's the good stuff," he said after he took a bite of the bits of steak he had in his bowl. The well seasoned meat was still warm, the buttery rolls to. He had just finished his second roll when the car drove into the lot. It drove pasted a few full spots before passing the first open one. The car stopped and then backed up so that it could get back into the spot. Once it was in the parking spot, it backed up again and drove in again. Hurbert realized that the driver must have been adjusting it so that he was perfectly in the middle. It was a nice car, like one of those cool sportscars that Hurbert used to drive when he was a lawyer. It was a european, one of the newer models, and it had a nice shiny gray colour to it. It was still on, but the engine made hardly any noise, probably because it was part electric.

Hurbert peered at it while it sat there. Nobody got out, Hurbert guessed the driver was on the phone, or talking with a passenger. The windows were tinted, and while during the day it might have been possible to see through them, that was not the case this late at night. The car sat there, and Hurbert watched it as he finished his meal, licking the sauce off his hands and eating all four of the rolls that he got himself.

The look of the car brought back memories of when he was a big shot lawyer in a town on the other side of the vallley, it was a rich life, but it was busy. He kept up with the pace by using, mostly adderall. He used alcohol too, but he made sure to keep to just the weekends and when he needed it to help him sleep. He lost everything when he got caught making fake prescriptions, and then killed a girl when he was driving while intoxicated. He could still remember the girl's name now, even though it had been years. Alice. The name had been on his mind for so long. She would be an adult now, maybe she might have had her first grandchild in the last year or so. "Alice" he said to himself as he continued to stare at the car.

He was so focused on his thoughts that when the car beeped, and the doors opened, he fell backwards off the parking block he was sitting on. A loud group of adults had come out of the restaurant, and was heading towards the car, but it was not the sudden loudness of the exiting adults that made Hurbert fall backwards. It was also not the loud beeping of the car as it unlocked and the doors opened that caused Hurbert to falled backwards. It was because there was no one in the car. It was empty. It was one of those driverless cars that he had heard about. Not just that, but not only did the car doors did open, there were cars on either side of it, and the doors did not hit its neighbors as they opened.

Hurbert watched in amazement as the adults, all very clearly drunk, got in the car. The drunks then lowered the windows as they left the lot, odd due to the cold, but it allowed Hurbert to watch the car backout and leave without the person in the driver's seat doing anything. "That is the future," he said, his breath fogging from the cold. How his life would have been different if that car was around when he was younger. Alice would still be alive. If only.