The Hill

Over on the hill
the trash trucks line up like
gigantic old snails waiting
for a chance to discard
their 50% load of plastic,
50% load of food waste
into the county appointed space
for depositing trash.

The trucks come here
day after day
until the space turns into a giant mound
and a refuge for buzzards, rats, and pigeons.

Once the mound is too big
the trash trucks form a new line
for a newly allotted space to begin
building a new mound.

And this goes on indefinitely,
in the name of humanity;
the ever-expanding solution.

Jean À Paris

John’s going to go to
Paris in the Spring.

Do that sort of parisien thing.

The eating of chocolate,
baguettes and cheese,

the wearing of berets, stripes,
and mingling in the streets.

He shipped his chaise lounge
over the seas
so he can kick back and
relax under trees.

John’s going to go to
Paris in the Spring.

Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin