Trashy Romance Poem by Karpop Riba

The Trashy Romance

Every morning I hear his approaching sound..
And my heart sinks as I dread what's around
It's the gaari wala with his bells and his whistles,
The garbage truck man with his blaring missiles.

The gaari wala's arrival makes me want to cry,
As he plays that infernal song, 'Gaari wala aya khachra nikal, ' oh my!
It's like he wants to torture my poor soul,
With his noise and his awful goal.

And yet... I can't resist the urge to sing along
As that catchy tune plays through the dawn
I find myself swaying to the beat,
Even as I curse the gaari's noisy feet.

So, I hop out of bed with a groan and a grin,
And join the gaari wala's musical din.
Together we dance to the rhythm of the street,
'Gaari wala aya khachra nikal, ' as we clear out the trash in the comfort of our own home.

The hilarity of the situation strikes me in the end;
As I find myself nodding to my worst frenemy's trend
Who knew I'd be dancing to this stinky trash song,
And that the gaari wala would be my cheerleader all along?

It's absurd, it's ridiculous, but it's what gets us through,
As we start our day with that god-awful cue.
So, I resign myself to the gaari wala's daily routine,
As we dance down the street in a synchronized team.