Front porch sags
under weight
of accumulating garbage,
thrown away but not yet
properly disposed of.
It waits there,
in full view.
Passersby pause
to raise their eyebrows,
shake their head,
then keep walking,
wondering.
The owner hates it,
resentful of the stench,
shamed by its presence.
It reminds him
of neglect, of waste
and abandoned plans.
Holding his breath,
he looks away
as he steps over it,
as though
it belongs to someone else.
No one likes
to live with a mess.
I feel sorry for him...
and for the
Garbage.
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