Obsession

That must be him. In the distance
across the fields, the scurrying figure
of a man clutching a bulging plastic bag.
Heard about him for some time,
but this is my first sighting.

The Anti-Litter League:
I pinned its red enamel badge
to the lapel of my school blazer.
It’s true when they say
indoctrination at an early age
can grip you for life.
If anything, as I grow older
the urge to pick the stuff up
grows ever stronger.
Especially on my favourite footpaths
over the fields near our house.
I’ve taken to carrying a plastic bag,
usually full to overflowing
when I get home and dump it in the bin.
Only when alone, in company
I refrain, my fingers itching,
not wanting to cause embarrassment.

Realising I’m looking at him,
he ducks behind a hedgerow.
My doppelganger in reverse.
This poor fellow haunts these fields,
not picking up litter but scattering it.