I went out into my front yard
To bring in the garbage can.
My neighbors cans were all empty,
Mine was full, on it's side right then.
My water bill was paid, so I called them.
But they sold that service to new men.
When I called that service they answered,
"Give your Social Security number to us my friend."
When did we all become just numbers?
The merchants used to know me by name.
My garbage pickup was discontinued.
"I'll bury my own, thanks just the same."
No credit was offered for being faithful,
Paying our bills for forty two years.
Most poor folks are late on occasion.
Loyalty counts for nothing I fear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem