(Published in issue 45 of Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review in November 2016)

petroleum is gasoline is asphalt.
copper is wire is radio.
beach sand is glass.
cow skin, seat.

disposable straws idle on
shelves and trucks 
until their brief duty;
plastic has no grace.

a water burial is a trash island in the Pacific Ocean.
(we saw it on the internet.)

this,
the only Kwik Mart corn dog,
is a midnight Kwik Mart corn dog.

good enough
in the stomach
with burnt coffee,

like so much,
just good enough
for now.