The glass lunchbox I borrowed
Had its own status
Set above the peevish plastic of my own foolish purchases.
He picked it for his lunch
The kids chose it for snacks
Somehow it tasted better.
It shone outside of the dishwasher.
While its counterparts became glum and lost their gloss, it just continued to sparkle.
It was better. Better at everything.
A glimpse into a kitchen where everything had its own seamless role
While mine just melted and lost its shape.