My Wife’s Hero on Garbage Day
My wife looked at me sleepily and asked about
Whether or not I had taken the garbage out.
Dripping wet, I went with the short answer instead
Of recalling the last 5 minutes replaying in my head.
The garbage truck comes early on the days I’m running late
But if the cans aren’t at the street, I don’t think that they’ll wait.
So my plaid pajama bottoms, undershirt, and sleepy face,
Together gather garbage and strike a hurried pace
I grab the smell I think’s the worst
And tie the bag of diapers first,
Then grab the kitchen can and tie
That bag as well, so long as I
Think that I can make it down the driveway to the street.
Barefoot, I take the bags and walk on down to meet
The garbage man who’s just arrived to take my trash for me
But the bag of diapers breaks and makes me feel un-neighborly
Rather than complain
I smile in vain
And it starts to rain.
And by rain, I mean it started to pour
As each hand grabbed three or four
Expanding spongey wads of diaper mess
But to answer her question, “yes”.