Fear of wastage torments people,
You mutter while you waste away.
The neighbor who can’t bear to throw
His dead pet’s pet food in the trash,
Determined to give it away
To someone with a living pet,
The adolescent with all day
To spend, pure waste without a friend,
The woman who won’t clean the fridge
Until it reeks of rotten fruit,
The writer who’s done no writing
In the free hour of that morning,
The terminal patient who failed
To make special another day—
And all the other forms of waste,
So what? To breathe makes waste of breath.