Charles Bukowski
here they come
these guys
grey truck
radio playing
 
they are in a hurry
 
it’s quite exciting:
shirt open
bellies hanging out
 
they run out the trash bins
roll them out to the fork lift
and then the truck grinds it upward
with far too much sound . . .
 
they had to fill out application forms
to get these jobs
they are paying for homes and
drive late model cars
 
they get drunk on Saturday night
 
now in the Los Angeles sunshine
they run back and forth with their trash bins
 
all that trash goes somewhere
 
and they shout to each other
 
then they are all up in the truck
driving west toward the sea
 
none of them know
that I am alive
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