They wait silently, that quiet pair by the door
one for the recycle path, one for the rest
A or B, and their secret cousin down the hall
everything in its place, on its way at day's end.
Just the place for mixed refusals
of the day. No shame in leaving them
there, unknown, unheard from -
just take them away, thanks.
As a child, the dump was most fascinating,
a huge pit; back up the car close to the edge,
toss in the bags, the boxes - the odd fridge -
for imaginary roaming creatures.
Now, of course, it's more real
with knowledge of those who live there,
making their way through piles
searching for life from a can.