By Bob Dougherty
 
A youth sat by a jungle trail bored and needing relief.
Then he heard an astounding sound.  What appeared defied belief.
 
A man with a great elephant came crashing down the trail.
The man smiled and spoke to the youth.  (thus, starts our modest tale…)
 
The youth said, “What a wondrous beast so large and of such height, 
it must be very rare indeed an elephant all white.”
 
The man said, “Yes, it’s very rare a pleasure to behold. 
But alas, I must travel far my treasure must be sold.”
 
The youth said, “If I had the funds I’d buy it for my own”.
The man said, “If you’ll care for it we could work out a loan”.
 
Shaking hands the man danced away.  The youth smiled at his prize,
then strode it to his village home where all stared at its size.
 
Everyone came from leagues around to view the mighty beast.
The youth achieved his instant fame but his pleasure slowly ceased.
 
Elephant care is arduous, with grooming land and hay.
Excitement waned our youth wore out the elephant couldn’t stay.
 
Our youth now grown, his beast in tow, trod down the jungle trail.
Beyond a bend sat a callow youth.  (thus, starts our modest tale…)

By Bob Dougherty
 
There’s purpose and order,
every type of thing has an area,
electronics, plumbing, old paint…
people moving stuff all over the place,
yet, for all the activity it’s really quite clean.
What’s striking is the eerie feeling of entropy;
this is the place old junk ends up no one wants.
The efficiency of the end is like Costco in reverse,
people bring their things in   pay   leave with nothing.
A Tyrannosaurus machine devours once treasured items
and spits its splintered spew onto a conveyor to   nowhere.
I push my pile into the pit and move back — feeling faint regret.
 
Was I too hasty?
 
When I go to the recycler I always hope life is much more
than just carrying things from Costco to the recycler.
The average trip for my stuff is maybe ten years.
Strangely, at the recycler,   I always picture
when my junk was new and I younger.
At Costco,   I never picture
purchases — as old
and I older.
 
In some ways,   I guess   I’m a tool of entropy,
I buy goods   use them up   discard junk.
If the trip takes longer, that’s good,
if I get good memories, great,
but someday — I sense
entropy will get even
the memories.