Recycle

Sitting by the curb all alone is a plastic bag stuffed with plastic bags. No longer having access to the coveted New York Times newspaper delivery bags for scooping poop, I eye this plump mass with desire. They're with nothing else, placed perhaps for another but I'm here and they're not. No, too embarrassing, I will not take them home with me. The dogs and I walk down the block and circle back on the other side of the street. A car pulls up to a nearby house. The driver goes inside. We cross back to the bags. The bundle is light. The bags advertise supermarkets I rarely frequent. Inside an information card explains. The weekly recycling crew left the bags because they don't have a way to recycle them. The note is kind and informative. It should make its way to its intended hands. Not today. The bag of bags is easily handled on the walk home.