The Trash Men

here they come
these guys
grey truck
radio playing

they are in a hurry

it's quite exciting:
shirt open
bellies hanging out

they run out the trash bins
roll them out to the fork lift
and then the truck grinds it upward
with far too much sound . . .

they had to fill out application forms
to get these jobs
they are paying for homes and
drive late model cars

they get drunk on Saturday night

now in the Los Angeles sunshine
they run back and forth with their trash bins

all that trash goes somewhere

and they shout to each other

then they are all up in the truck
driving west toward the sea

none of them know
that I am alive

Poem topics: ,

Rate this poem:

Add The Trash Men poem to your favorites

Add Poet Charles Bukowski to your favorites

Popular Poets

John Banim (1 poems)
‘Æ,' George William Russell (5 poems)
Bliss Carman and Richard Hovey (80 poems)
Archibald MacLeish (6 poems)
Emily Lawless (3 poems)
John J. Loud (1 poems)
Clement Wood (3 poems)
Aline Kilmer (3 poems)
Aleister Crowley (50 poems)
Edward Thurlow (1 poems)

Popular Poems

Haikai., by Robert Crawford
But Not Forgotten, by Dorothy Parker
There Was A Young Lady Whose Chin, by Edward Lear
A Musical, by Paul Laurence Dunbar
The Lake Isle Of Innisfree, by William Butler Yeats
A Song In The Night (II), by George MacDonald
Décembre, by Emile Verhaeren
Prologue To A Saga, by Dorothy Parker
This World is not Conclusion, by Emily Dickinson
Grant At Rest-- August 8, 1885, by James Whitcomb Riley