Number 15
Number 15 rumbles a regular route,
Whining about the dew-drop hours.
A friend used to hang on and shout,
"Top-of-the-line!" Sucking fruit sours.
Underrated, invaluable, civil necessity.
Removing debris for the wasteful Whos.
Salting and plowing the frozen density.
Protection from plagues of pesty refuse.
Garbage to be his last embrace.
Toxic weight on asthma lungs,
While indulging a smokey taste.
I say, "Shoot it all into the sun!"
Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment