Garbageperson

she’s cold

and the work

is hard

 

clinging between

winter stops

to the frozen

squealing truck

 

jumping on and off

 

hauling curbside garbage

bundled junk

into a hydraulic maw

 

not falling on the ice

 

success is her union job

her hourly pay is good

 

her hair tied back

under the hoodie

perfumed with

diesel fumes

 

plastic straws

soiled tissues

stick to the bottoms

of emptied bins

 

a forgotten

candy wrapper

blows away

with an

indifferent

city wind

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Old Friends