Looking for Burt’s Bees


Scattered yet organized
among the crag and concrete.
There has to be a story among the debris.

Dumped from despair?

Flung in frustration?

Scattered in silliness?

The collection not yet worn enough
to become a castoff for those in transition.


Metal not rusted
Ink pens not dried
Toothpaste not emptied
Plastic not stretched

A closer inspection reveals
a scattering of true trash – cigarette butts and broken acorns –
parts of wholes not present.

Contemplation of collecting the display
dismissed because
there is no coconut and pear balm –
necessary as the days become colder and blustery.

About justbrinkley

poetry, flash fiction, prompts from a southern granny who should have been a writer.
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