What happened to the brown paper bags. 

The fresh fruits of the earth,

The crisp air.

All you see now is plastic. 

Plastic is the new paper bag.

The new fruits of the earth,

The crisp sound of the sidewalks.

Except it is not that.

Roaming the seas are not lost love letters

Or sailors' misfortune. 

But tiny cigarette butts and a man’s death wish.