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A Recycled Concept A Poem By Monica A recycled man, a recycled woman. Tangible yes, but recycled?

? Another metaphor that may well be a paradox.

Human recycling does not involve machines. It involves hearts and bodies and all things sacred. Washed out, finished, high mileage. All meant to mean the same thing.

Celebrity culture makes this phenomenon possible. Keeping up with the illusions. Shallow and hollow. A sad, sick state.

Scrap metal became my cooking pot. Used tissue became my egg tray. Scrap woman became my judgement.

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