Nostalgia

One had only to turn a tap,
they say,
And clean water came pouring out
You could choose hot or cold,
No need to haul.
As for personal waste,
No need to bury or walk away from it.
One just flushed with yet more gushing water;
And huge snorting monsters
Toured the village to
Benignly accept one's trash on certain mornings.
I heard their maws disgorged out to sea, and
Fueled barges toured the oceans
Loaded with used napkins and
Old food (there was too much to eat!) and
Plastic I think they called it,

That refuse had come out from
Their large dwellings clustered along paved
Stretches; and nestled close to these
Buildings sat heavy metal carriage fleets
To carry one anywhere day or night.

Those nights bright with miraculous lamps
(no mystery or silence;
They say you couldn't even see the stars).