Scat

If you go to the dog park
On a 100 degree afternoon

And open the lid of the
Metal trashcan, which
Sits in the sun
All day

The stench of a dozen
Little bags of
Fermenting dog crap
Will smack you across
The snout like a hot,
Wet washcloth of decay

By god!
The pong of it
Is unnatural

Or is it?

For what could be more natural
Then the end result of digestion?

All creatures eat and excrete
Poops stinks and
Flies feast

It's natural
But on the
Other, other hand...

The plastic baggies,
The sun roasted can,
The sheer concentration of crap
In one place
Is less so

It's rather like humanity

We staggered from the forest
Just a small tribe of
Clever mammals
But now

With our metal can cars
Our poured stone cities
Our plastic refuse

The sheer concentration
Of humans
On one, small
Overheated planet

By god!
The pong of us
Is unnatural