Plastic wheels on the plastic garbage can roll across the asphalt and thunder. I listen for words of wisdom from Pink Floyd on the car stereo, "Welcome my son, Welcommmmme toooooo the Maachhhhhhine..."
The plastic garbage cans filled with plastic trash begin to line the street. Roll call for early morning pick up and we answer with scheduled obedience. Well maybe a few rebels, a couple fuckheads who procrastinate to the last minute to run the dawn yardage across the lawn in bare feet and bathrobe to stub their toe on the mulberry root.
Hello rebel who still answers when their name is called. Stop it. Stop answering and just stare them straight in the eye with clenched jaw and breathe. Say nothing. Just do that thing you always wanted to do whatever it is. I don't care just as long as it makes no trash, no mess to clean up or blood. Debt of money is an illusion compared to debt of soul. So if you stopped kicking your trash to the curb to make room for more imagine the time you just gave the garbage collector...an eternity maybe. And what's the time you just gave yourself worth? A Life?
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