trash day

before you can
run
the trash bags
out into
the rain in
your underwear
and tennis
shoes the truck
speeds backwards
into your court
and the olympic
sprinters in
orange jumpsuits
leap from the back
of the groaning
truck and pull
and throw the
gathering of
bags near the hydrant.
you are left
standing there
with there with
your own weeks
worth of garbage,
on your porch,
your eyes catching
glimpse of
the laughing men.