The Garbage Truck

The Garbage Truck

The men whistle at each other giving commands in the silence of the coming sunrise. They cling to the edges of the truck; heavily gloved hands. The truck thumps once more, as if belching, as if swallowing, as if food was passing thru its esophagus, as if it were chewing. Then men don't mind this. As they feed the metal beast. The flies buzz around its mouth. The hinges cringe, and echoes through the windows of unsuspecting neighbors. The men are used to the unruly stench coming from the truck's mouth, which clunks heavily in its entrails, a dark echo of an endless pit; one of the men whistles andthe driver gets the animal moving along the dimly lit sidewalks of the suburb. The men hang on its sides, as if it were a trolley, they're on their way to make the truck puke, at a confined, secluded place as to spare the people who sleep from the nastiness that comes from their carelessness.


May 25, 2006