The huge garbage truck is idling again, the
incessant Diesel grumbling roiling my nerves.
It's a sound I really dislike. The driver has
stepped out for mangoes, boiled potatoes,
a 12-pack of coffees and a sack of red donuts.
Whatever those guys eat for break. They
never get fancy until they start eating.
Shredded shards of happenstance; that's the
title I want to give my garbage memoir.