Thursday, February 09, 2006

Ode to My Garbage Man

How do I hate thee?
Let me count the ways.

I hate thee to the depth and breadth and height
My garbage can reach.

When one fine paper finds it's way to the blue bin,

You shall not pick up.
Though I wash my garbage to please you,
you still will not pick up if it's in a bag, and not in the blue bin.

I hate thee to the level of Thursday's
unknown time of pick up...sometimes at dawn, sometimes in the afternoons light.
I hate thee freely, as I rush to get my garbage out at the right time;

I hate thee purely, as I can't leave it out too early for risk of fine.
I hate thee with a passion put to use
In my old beefs, and with my childhood's hope and faith that I too would be overpaid for a menial job that requires no College or University education.

To be able to have the power to infuriate residents with my petty little demands of
type of garbage bin they may or may not use, refuse to pick up certain colours of bags, and smelly green bins.
Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose,
I shall but hate thee better after your death.

For your information; a first year teacher in Ontario gets paid less.