Disposable

The remote died during the news,

and when I tried to force the door,

the plastic hinge snapped off under my nail

with a sound like a dry bone.

I stepped on a bottle in the dark of the drive,

that hollow, sharp crunch

of something that was never meant to last.

I carry the groceries in a blue bag

stretched so thin the white stress marks

look like lightning across the bottom

where the milk carton is trying to escape.