pick up days

i chase the trashman
down the street with my bag
of trash.
i heard the roar and clang
of it
as i lay in bed, then rushed
out.
i'm in my robe
and slippers as i chase.
the men in orange
jumpsuits pay me no
mind.
they keep rolling.
throwing bag after bag
into the back.
chairs and boxes.
old bikes,
lamps without shades.
clothes.
they go faster and faster
as i keep running.
by the end of the day
my trash bag
has broken
and everything
has fallen out along
the way.
i walk up to the back
of the dark
truck and throw the empty
bag in.
i walk home, discouraged,
wondering
even after 14 years,
when i will get these days
and times
right for pick up.