Friday, November 13, 2009

litteroti: a sentence

Walking from near the tip of Tipperary Hill, I wended my way walking down Whittier, onto leaf-laden Lowell, onto sunny South Wilbur in front of Saint John's and its onion domes and on through West Genesee Street, its largest former car dealers shuttered, showing us the lonely signs of the Great Recession, ending my pedestrian promenade at Freedom of Espresso on Solar Street, but not before seeing the detritus of American consumption, the litteroti of careless consumerism: cigarette cartons (why so many boxes of Newport?), a cereal box, a can of Arizona ice tea, lottery tickets, a squashed plastic water bottle, and so much more lessening the landscape, aching for trash cans either missing or brimming over.

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