Really? Flick your cigarette butts

onto the grassy bluff above today’s

sapphire smooth ocean?

Down the path the sticky slime from

your crumpled soda can still spills

onto the scarlet petals of a flowing hibiscus

Notice the plastic grocery bag caught on a tree limb

above that man resting on his back in the shade,

looking up through the leaves for a pure view

of the cumulous clouds

And the gnarly black mess your dog

left steaming in the center of the walkway

blocking three little kids on their way

for an afternoon at the beach

Might as well just squat there yourself

for all you care, squeeze out a few rounds

of your own torrid petulance

Be careful —

there are landfills called cemeteries

filled with human remains

foraged and scattered

by prowling beasts, ashes

returned to oceans, urns

emptied for the wind to stir