Monday's Garbage

Because Monday didn't already have a bad rep.

Monday’s Garbage

 

Last full day awake, seeing

everybody move on the volleyball

court like Jedi without the mind control.

There’s no sign of a garbage can,

 

just a gentle slip into the backpack,

the movement inside moves outside,

sidewalks cleared of their grass clippings,

houses moving towards me.

 

Children continue to play the “now you

see me, now you don’t” game, an obese

child punches his friend in the back of

the head, the child pumps his fists.

 

The slow walk to the train tracks clears

the air for more wind and noise.

a large child with his arm around a

girl asks, “Do you wanna’ date my sister?”

 

The movement inside moves outside,

yesterday’s garbage becomes today’s

blank slate.  Everyone becomes the

Burger King wrappers and the cups

 

from Caribou Coffee, still rooted to

the soil of iron oxide.  Except the

movements are cold and amateurish,

no one draws movement like that.

 

Veterans with their legs shot off,

saying they’ve got a gun somewhere,

OR nurses that still smoke, Evangelicals

that still sell the New Testament.

 

Entering others thoughts thinking about

the days ‘till Christmas, credit scores,

the last episode of Friends, I tossed the

garbage, watching it dance the Samba.   

Author's Note

Take a few seconds for a review as your stopping by. I don't bite.

Reviews

[mynamesvicky]

wow because i saw every image in this poem.

[Robert Strzalko]

"Veterans with their legs shot off, saying they’ve got a gun somewhere." This is by far my favorite line. Thought provoking piece.

[Beccy]

Edgy and slightly surreal. I really liked this.

Beccy.