They don’t walk down the avenue
like I want to image
they don’t hang on the side of the truck
jumping off from time to time
stop after stop
pulling their carts of trash to the curb
heaving their contents within the compactor
where they churn upwards
on a mechanical slide
the least fun version of an old child’s best friend.
they don’t do any of that anymore
they sit in their cabins peering out to the left
as their fork lifts whatever trash is there.
Smacking the gum in their mouths
to the turned down radio
and the hum of passing cars.