There's no befriending litterers

 The plastic eye dropper left his hand.
Twirled in the air and landed in the grass.
a relaxed hand extended for an introduction.
It was nervously refused.

Behind his face videogames were playing.
Final scores to games his team played.
Beyond that not a lot of content.
He couldn't even manage a smile.

He put out his joint on the park bench he sat upon.
Flecks and tiny embers, a dark carbon stain on the wood.
The overwhelming sense that the world wasn't his hit him.
That the world belonged to the rubbish collector.