088. ...coarse Bottle Drinker
(poem)
It must be alien littering. You have to assume. Because why would anyone with skin in the game, a planet to enjoy and sustain, choose to leave shit lying about like this…
Extraterrestrial Fly Tip.
He refused to dip to her level,
celebrating those final moments
before teleportation back to the mothership
- coarse Bottle Drinker.
He prefers instead to use a delicate, extruded vessel
for the mediation
and transportation
of liquid to lip,
despite the plastic
muting the "ting",
quieting the quaint
human custom of clinking.
"Salut!" they say in unison,
drinking, resting plastic flute
and beer bottle
on the sea wall,
vanishing.
I expect tractor beams and teleportation will solve our littering problem eventually.