It is garbage day. I am waiting for the rumble of that big, filthy, smelly, monster which comes at 7 AM, give or take. I have a view of the street from a door that opens onto the front porch. When I hear this monster coming, my eyes are instantly peeled straight ahead through the door. I wait for the familiar squeal of its brakes as it rests to a stop. The fancy, blinking lights. Suddenly a gigantic hand reaches out and manhandles my plastic tote by grabbing her sides like a savage lover. It lifts my tote high up in the air and violently shakes out everything that was inside her. Soon I hear the crude compactor crushing her discarded contents. Quickly, my tote is lowered to the ground. She is sometimes dropped by the ugly hand when it releases too soon and my tote falls over on her back, empty and exposed. The monster pulls out from the curb and heads for another victim to abuse. Left behind, my tote is a jilted, rejected lover. But she will be back for more next week.
I think I need to go back to bed. I’m seeing things.