Counting Straws
Boom. Don't look up.
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Oh… paper straw?
Sure.
Yeah.
Me too.
Paper straw.
Canvas bag.
Reusable coffee mug.
Metal flask.
Plant the tree.
Save the bees.
Kill the lights.
Close the tap.
Good.
Keep at it.
I mean it.
Every action
to save our planet
I’m fucking on it.
But somewhere between
save our planet
and save ourselves,
we forgot to ask
who is selling us the ammo?
Finger guns pointed
at our little actions.
Pew pew pew.
Who’s pointing the guns
up at the big cats
manufacturing them?
Count the straw.
Count the bag.
Count the cup.
Count the tag.
Count my footprint.
Run it back.
Grade my life.
Keep me tracked.
Tick the box.
Gold star.
Good citizen.
Green heart.
Dust for fingerprints.
Ignore the bootprints.
Plastic bag?
Plastic cup?
Plastic straw?
Caught plastic handed.
Point those trigger fingers.
Bag him.
Use paper, of course.
That’ll be .99¢ for not bringing your own.
But dust the boardroom
and nothing?
No fingerprints
on the contracts?
No fingerprints
on the missiles?
No fingerprints
on their Montblanc pen
that signed,
See you never…?
That took somebody else’s tomorrow.
Took away their last good morning.
Go ahead.
Take a sip from paper.
Feel much safer.
Saint behavior.
Thoughts and prayers.
Halo shining.
Badge of honor.
Post the picture.
#savetheturtles
Watch the numbers.
Meanwhile,
another country
learning the weight of 2000 pound bombs.
Would you care if they were made of plastic?
Gaza.
Boom.
Sudan.
Boom.
Lebanon.
Boom.
Iran.
Boom.
Congo.
Children crawling
through cobalt veins
bringing tomorrow
with bleeding hands
so somebody can unbox
their newest screen
to post about the evils
of plastic straws.
Titanium frame.
New fancy colors.
Recycled box.
Standing ovation.
Round of applause.
Reduce.
Reuse.
Recycle.
The packaging
is saving the planet.
Let’s all celebrate.
Oh, wait.
Then summer
starts acting strange.
Heat waves where heat
never came.
Humidity
in the driest of places.
Winter is coming
wight walkers we’re all becoming.
The sky playing Jekyll and Hyde.
Russian roulette
never know what you’re going to get.
But don’t worry
#plasticfree
will save humanity.
Boom.
What’s that?
Oh, just the sound of another bomb.
Boom.
Another metric ton of CO₂
give or take a few.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
More bombs dropped
than WWII and Hiroshima
combined.
Smoke.
Soot.
Silica.
Steel.
Lead.
Benzene.
Dioxins.
Dust.
May I please get a paper straw?
Then somebody says
AI’s the problem.
You’re right,
but let’s talk.
Warehouse after warehouse.
Server after server.
River after river.
Power after power.
Commercial empires
building bigger brains.
Military contracts
teaching silicon
how to aim.
Data centers
drinking watersheds
like it’s happy hour.
Yet you point your trigger finger
at Grandma
using AI
to write a birthday message.
Keep the people
pointing at one another,
and they’ll never point
at the people in power.
Pew pew pew.
That’s the trick.
Always has been.
Misdirection.
Point sideways at your neighbors.
Never up at the fat cats.
My straw.
Your bag.
His truck.
Her flight.
Finger after finger
pointing across rooms,
while the only fingerprints
that mattered
were drying
another signature
in a room high up above your
pew pew pews.
Busy murdering
with another boom.
While you’re busy
measuring your neighbors
plastic behaviors,
So busy
you’ve become blind
to their bloody bootprints.
Bootprints
shouting at children
to enter cobalt mines.
Bootprints
burning olive groves
and desecrating graves.
Bootprints
running the rivers and seas
red with innocent blood.
Bootprints
through history.
Bootprints
through futures.
Bootprints
changing weather patterns
while you focus on straws.
You want to save the planet?
Me too.
Keep every plastic free promise
you make
to tomorrow.
I’ll be right beside you.
Just don’t ask me
to believe
a plastic straw
weighs more
than a missile,
a grocery bag
cuts deeper
than a crater,
or that my footprint
matters more
than the fingerprints
still drying
on the contracts,
or the bootprints
still teaching
the earth
new ways to...
Boom.
Watch the world burn.
Boom.
While sipping through paper straws.
Boom.
It’s going to be too late by the time you...
Boom.
Look up.
Boom.
•••
•••
•••
Thank you for being here.
For choosing to sit with work that isn’t polished or softened for comfort. Writing takes time, so if my words have touched you, your support helps me build my career as a writer and keeps my heartbeat alive 🖤
I don’t put my writing behind a paywall because I want my words to reach anyone who needs them. If my work has ever made you feel seen, a paid subscription helps me keep my dream alive. If that’s not possible, subscribing is free and means the world to me 🖤


Excellent Laura. Superbly written and really shines a light on that misdirected and how it's used to distract, deflect and divide.
The flow to the whole piece was stunning, too.
This was amazing! Did you read it yourself? You must have, it was so good and the cadence of the reading was perfect! Loved it! ✨