I Say Good Morning To My Garbage Men, - Poem by Michael. fanniesson
thank them for picking up my trash,
wish them a good day,
they look at me as if I’m nuts half the time
standing there outside in a bathrobe,
specially the younger ones.
I say good morning to my garbage men,
but I couldn’t point them out in a lineup
if my life depended on it,
even if I see these guys twice a week
rain or shine year in and year out.
I say good morning to my garbage men
though I look right through them
as if they’re nobodies,
the wife’s fond of saying.
Everything means something,
and nothing means nothing,
and I wonder,
if this is what she’s talking about?
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