this is a story about a milk bottle,
this milk bottle
this particular, individual milk bottle that I once held in my hand.
I bought a bottle of milk , because I wanted some milk
I bought this milk bottle
Because I wanted the milk that was inside it
Now the milk bottle is empty and I will throw it away into the recycling bin.
This is normal, I do this twice a week
but I am uncomfortable.
I feel a strange sense of compassion for the plastic milk bottle
as am heading towards the recycling bin.
it is a strong useful container and I am throwing it away
just because I don’t need it.
It fits my hand and calls out to me that it could hold something for me,
it could contain something I needed, some water, some milk.
But I don’t need this milk bottle as I have another one
full of milk in the fridge
I am doubtful of its recycled future.
Maybe it will get made into a worm farm.
But I think maybe it won’t
It will outlast me by a thousand years, somewhere, away
I feel sorry that we, as a people, made it,
I feel sorry that we will use it only once, this bottle
I have betrayed the materials we called upon to make it,
and now I betray the entity that it has become.
I am regretful and ashamed as I close the recycling bin.
Milk bottle installation
lie back in the recliner and watch the milk bottle rotate. the speakers by your ears whisper “this is the story of a milk bottle, this particular…….”