Disposable Philosophy

Look at the pretty plastic baubles
Strung around necks, purchased with quarters
Neon clashing with neon
Hearts and crosses and yin-yangs and smiley faces
Traded between hands on the playground, admired
Because they're shiny, though you don't know what they mean
Stowed in magpie boxes like treasure
Except treasure would have survived the fire
It wouldn't melt and crack and burn your skin
Tomorrow it's on the curb
Because you grew up, or that's what the others called it
When silently they told you
That everyone is an animal
Squalling through dumpsters
Until you die and become garbage yourself
But some of us
Have found gold in the ashes