Paper planes, water bottles, and cardboard boxes
Graded homework, bubble wrap, and my drained Pepsi cans
Old gum wrappers, today’s newspaper, and the unread novels lining my DVD shelf,
My collection of Seventeen magazines, last year’s phone book, and the cracked mirror above the sink in the bathroom.
All my old love letters, the bunched up grocery bags, and the paint can from my tagging days
My old Beatles CDs, my first cell phone, and my rainbow assortment of plastic hangers
My Batman action figure, the unfilled hair spray can from the nineteen fifties, and my broken glass flower vase
The Declaration of Independence, the top layer of my favorite billboard, and that ridiculous disposable doorknob designed for exit doors.
Blown up bags of chips, the Las Vegas souvenir wine glass, and the egg carton after the last omelet had been made
The keyboard from my nineteen ninety two computer, the grand piano I never really learned to play Beethoven on, and the old reading glasses from when I used to read
The gathered milk bottle tops, Harvard’s rejection letter, and my old Nike running shoes from before I owned a car.
The tires of said car after a pole crashed into me, the sheet music from the Beethoven lessons, and the “Green” condom that saved me from the story of telling my parents I was pregnant at fifteen.
And even Boxman from those adorable videos on YouTube.
Reduce, Reuse, and Recycle.
Otherwise, I'm not sure. If you'd like to tell me something about the poem that I've missed, or rebut what I've said, or show me a revision, I'd be delighted.