Thursday, July 23, 2015

An Open Letter to Open Trashcans

Dear Open-Top Trashcan 'neath Jefferson's visage,

I have finished my pretzel, salt and mustard and dough,
and now I must my wax paper throw.

Your friends with big-bellies I'd not neglect,
but your convenience is one I most certainly detect.

As I chewed my bites final, relishing each,
I saw Philly's Finest beginning to teach.

A couple or two, maybe drunk, maybe sober,
creating a scene, just a street over.

"Calm yourself please," came forth from his mouth,
the demeanor suggesting he'll knock your ass out.

Yet they yelled and they screamed with a voice most bestial,
whiled I chewed on my chewy Philadelphia Soft Pretzel.

As any good citizen, I ignored their plight,
despite the small riot they tried to incite.

And so I'm now ignorant, despite claims of injustice,
about which that the whole street's fuss is.

I chewed the last of my chewy soft pretzel,
admiring its dough, its salt, its mustard most tasteful.

And I found you most useful, fine open-top trashcan,
lurking beneath that independence gentleman.

As I needed to dispose of some slimy wax paper,
it once held a pretzel - to my fingers, a favor.

THANK YOU open-top trashcan, you're really the best.
You've prevented a sticky fingery mess.

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