Oh, my receptacle of petroleum-based polymers
How deftly you move your innards to my lips!
Did you come from a factory?
There must be billions of you out there
Exactly the same, yet unlike
Your paper brethren, you won't leak
for at least seventy-two years.
How cruel for you, oh plastic keeper,
To be rarely ordered except as accompaniment
I think you’re worth more than that
But I would never tell
I’m jealous of you.
If I put my hand in water for long, I wrinkle.
You don’t even break