Redemption Poem by Thomas Case

I am going to dig through
dumpsters today; alone or
with a fellow aluminum
cowboy.Our treasure is
cans.Thank God for
redemption.Each can is
worth a nickle, and if
we get enough of these
shiny miracles, we can
get a pint of vodka,
our oasis in the desert.

I sift through trash bags
full of cat shit and broken dreams.
I find: losing lottery tickets,
broken costume jewelry, unwanted
books, and a porno magazine.
I examine the jewelry closely,
hoping for a diamond or real pearls;
some silver or gold, something I
can pawn or sell and turn into
liquor- no such luck.
The whole thing smells like
death, and piss, and a
city dump in July.
Sometimes I think it
would be easier to just
quit drinking, but to do it
abruptly could kill me,
the withdraw seizures can be deadly.
As the sun begins to set
on Iowa City, the sky
looks like a butterfly melting.
I haul my black garbage bag, full
of cans, over my shoulder
down the railroad tracks, and
across highway 6.
I stop to vomit behind
a building, then wipe my
face and continue on to
the store- to be redeemed.