January 4, 2012 § 3 Comments

the city designated
weekend for purging
(circled in red since
february) finally arrived

a warm afternoon
found me dragging
overstuffed boxes
loosely tied bundles
armload after armload
to curbside

when done
another beer cap twisted
I sit on the tailgate of my
truck and wait for
the scrappies to show up

their bald-tired wrecks
low and angry
some prowling by slow
a weathered face squinting
out of the passenger side window
others would side up
to the curb, practically
ejecting someone to
snatch a bit of metal and
move off quickly to a pile
further up the street

like a dingo ripping off a
chunk of meat and
running ahead of
the pack

some would politely ask if they
could have my orphanned bits
of life – to which I would
answer – sure I’m done
with ’em – but only
if their attire suited
their intentions
tattered flannel shirts
oily jeans leather workgloves
an honest mans wardrobe

I would deny such gifts
to the clean ones
sauntering out of new trucks
their designer shades
crisp shirts neat hair
it’s them
I don’t trust
there is something
disingenuous in their manner

I won’t have the
likes of them
rifling through my
perfectly proportioned
pile of discarded memorabilia

them I send away

with a smattering of
profanities and a thumb
hooked in the
direction of elsewhere


§ 3 Responses to trash

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