When the trash trucks come
Every Friday morning I take him to daycare late
Because that’s the day the trash trucks come
We rush from the breakfast table bagel half chewed
Race to the red car down cement steps barefoot no shoes
The trash trucks are here
I’m in a season of sobriety
of presence
Of wanting to tear my skin apart
Turns out this presence they keep pitching me in 2am reels from the crunchy corners of the internet
Is the opposite of relief
Nirvana is smoking a cigarette in the corner
they undersold her too
I’m desperate for relief
for reprieve
for a break from this constant tracking. thinking. listing. checking.
One responsibility after another
I’m drowning
I feel silly that my undoing will be over one more form
One more Terms & Conditions where I agree to work camps on page 62
I’m suffocated by monotony
Suffering in ritual and lines
Dumbfounded by the inefficiency and the COST of that inefficiency
I think most bad habits were formed at the DMV and Social Security offices across this country
Maybe we’re not sick
Maybe it’s just hard to breathe while choking on paperwork
and fees and procedures out of pocket
I’m drinking away the paper cuts
my soul withstands
5 hours in the sun
on my one day off
To comply with decisions by some guy who’s never stood in line
I’m furious and bored and ashamed of my boredom
Bored as the house burns
And God I want a drink or a joint or a little bit of both
But they tell me this time rushes by
It’s gone all too quick
And some day between Tuesday and Wednesday I realized
It’s never coming back
And one day a trash truck will just be a trash truck
And one day he’ll worry about taking out the trash cans and buying bags for the bins
And trash trucks will also remind him of his responsibilities and that list
But today they are magic and something worth running over
Off down the concrete steps out of breath barefoot no shoes
Tomorrow I will wake up sober
Tomorrow I will be uncomfortable
Tomorrow I will be present
Because tomorrow
the trash trucks come
