I met in multiple forms animal, humanoid, parts of things.
You made my metal Hot Wheels do cool Loop-di-loops
While modeling Mobius strips.
As I grew older, you entered my life in more utilitarian ways.
You kept my sandwich together and fresh sealed in
Mommy love until my lunch period.
You encased my chips and Hostess snack treats.
Later you had a Solo gig holding my beer at the kegger.

Along the way, you put my words on the page,
From worksheets to spiral notebooks, map quizzes to margin notes,
Line by line from Bic to Uniball and then as a keyboard and printer.
(Once again, you made metal fun).

Along the way you came to hold my water,
My milk, my yoghurt, my ice cream, my peanut butter and my jelly,
Even my ketchup, mustard, mayo, and relish.
You came to contain all my precious condiments
Wrapping everything in your clear, unbreakable, petroleum embrace.

Along the way I came to suspect that
You were not good for me, for us, for all.
I've tried hard to ease my conscience by recycling you.
Your omnipresent, all-enduring good is so bad.
Like my G.I. Joe or Johnny West you're not a real hero, but
Just a fortuitous figurine of modernity.

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