trash pickup

you are sound
asleep
when you hear
the trash truck
back up
with the gears
grinding,
the impatient
and serious
beeping that they
do as they
roll slowly
backwards
towards the corner
where all
the bags have been
gathered according
to condo rules
and regulations.
you hear
the clanging
of the wide
heavy door
rotating down,
it's shiny pistons
pushing with
a groan as men in
orange jumpsuits
covered in
spills and sweat,
with once white
gloves throw
bag after bag
in the dark mouth,
and you lie there
and think about
your own three bags
in the hallway,
neatly tied with
everything you want
to dispose of,
sitting there,
missing once
again, the pickup.