Seneca Lane

When I become a garbage man
I’ll dump out each garbage can
On the ground and toss each
Empty garbage can into the back
Of my garbage truck and drive away.
I’ll be driving the truck
A blue one
And I’ll hang off the back of the truck
At the same time.
I will pull up to the red house
Over there on fire with the deep basement.
The kid who lived there
Thirty years ago ruined my life.
He could own the whole fucking
World today for all I care
But not this poem
Never my rage.