She puts it down in front of me
A bottle of water and a glass
With a straw
(Not plastic - Greta T.
Would probably be somewhat happy)
I especially ask for it, I know
It reeks of faux gentility
To sip one’s water from a glass
With a rim, sculpted for your lips
To gently settle on it and draw
Up The water. But the straw
Has replaced that intimacy 
Between the aqua glass and me
It wasn’t always like this
This distancing of my lips
But unending hopelessness
Pandemics of malaise 
Scrooched time and again
Upon the rim, insidious and grim
Where there should have been
Pure bevel, clean, pristine 
Or at the very least
Conclaves of mellow disease
That didn’t bleed dry and deplete 
The very life blood out of me
So now you know
Why I use uncoupling straws
Indifferent, cool, gappy
(Paper-made, eco-friendly)
An arms-length defense strategy 
To keep myself malady free.