I built a simple terrarium from a 2-liter soda bottle. When the sun rises, clouds form rain falls down rounded plastic walls. I want to squeeze through this threaded opening twist the bottle cap back on from behind stand beneath the sympathetic bows of miniature mimosa forests gaze out at the world through the cloudy plastic picture windows of my new enclosure. At the zoo down the street, there are more than a few tears when a Mylar balloon filled with helium is accidentally released from the hand of a child looking intently at the lions. We watch it float away and wonder where will it come down? Hoping for an answer, we release a space station coated in Dacron and filled with astronauts wearing polyester fleece to keep their feet warm. In a small container that pulls down from the wall, the ceiling, or the floor, a mimosa plant is being grown to study the effects of shyness on microgravity. Water empties from vacuoles as blood drains from a face — leaves lying down in carefully organized rows raise questions about the true extent of human influence. From the collapsible aluminum lawn chair in my backyard I can just make out two bright little specks in the sky: one spiraling gently upwards the other falling endlessly towards us in a circle.
Drew Dillhunt | Mudlark No. 39 (2010)
Contents | Plastic #2 (High Density Polyethylene)