the garbage of others

it was an old piano

left in the woods, a

dump

of sorts, unauthorized,

with

blue

refrigerators and pink

stoves,

toilets,

tires, clothes

left

to rot and dissolve

into the brown

earth.

we stumbled upon

the treasure trove

of

books,

and knives,

cracked plates, records

tossed

aside.

plastic dolls and toy

trains,

but it was the piano

that held

my interest,

and when i struck

the keys

a sound came out.

then more

and more. a hollow

off tune

ping.

someone played this

once before,

they sat

there turning the page

of music.

perhaps singing

a song.

a family gathered around.

them

in joy,

and now this, at the end

of a dead-end road.