Pick That Trash Up!

We don’t inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children. ― David Brower, author, environmentalist

You think you’re so cool
Zipping along in your rat-mobile.
Nobody would ever guess
You were raised in a barn.

That’s what it’s called, you know,
When you act like a pig.
Sad to say, even pigs act better than you,
Most times, anyway.

You think nobody saw you
As you slowed in traffic, stealthily
Lowered your passenger window,
Looked right and left and then…

Casually tossed that crumpled brown sack
Of fast food take-out into the street,
Where it rolled in the wind
And came to rest by the side of the road.

Well, somebody noticed, Buster — me,
And I’m not happy with your littering,
Dumping your garbage on city streets when
There are plenty of receptacles around.

It’s people like you who give our city
A bad name, a reputation for trashiness.
And it’s people like you who don’t care
That others have to live in your filth.

Maybe it’s an age or gender thing,
But somebody should’ve taught you better.
And if they did, and you didn’t listen,
Then you’re a bigger pig than you appear.