Sunset

Billowing clouds from smoke stacks,

pick up trucks racing to maintain their egos

during our morning and evening commute.

The stench of decaying earth while crossing

the Broadway Bridge to go up north,

no longer do we plug our noses.  

 

Coastal homes housing compost waste baskets

in the kitchen resting next to

aluminum, glass, and paper recycle bins.

Kansas City streets lined with landfill depositories.

Conservation non-profit scientist and liberal

political campaigns, they’ve warned us

of the consequences and the earths fragile state.

 

Dead coffee cups and empty beer bottles,

plastic bags and unenforced littering laws,

withering fast food sacks stock piled outside the church

across the street where the homeless sleep,

Where will they end up when we no longer need them?

 

On the porch as a child I sat with my dad,

Half past dinner and the sun setting,

The sky turning colors reminding me of cotton candy,

red, pink, baby blue, hints of orange and melon,

I asked my father how the sky became so beautiful

he responded, “It’s the pollution, baby”.