The Hill

Over on the hill
the trash trucks line up like
gigantic old snails waiting
for a chance to discard
their 50% load of plastic,
50% load of food waste
into the county appointed space
for depositing trash.

The trucks come here
day after day
until the space turns into a giant mound
and a refuge for buzzards, rats, and pigeons.

Once the mound is too big
the trash trucks form a new line
for a newly allotted space to begin
building a new mound.

And this goes on indefinitely,
in the name of humanity;
the ever-expanding solution.

A Colossal Of Car

A giant car,
the size of 30 Empire State Buildings
rose up before the metroplex of Dallas-Fort Worth.

Holding aloft in the sky,
holding all dominion,
it towered over 1 billion miles of highway.

The highways ran left and right
as far as the eye could see,
merging into Space
and Infinity at the edge of the horizon.

Speckled here and there were signs for
AppleBee’s,
Wal-Mart,
McDonald’s,
and Home Depot.

This colossal of car held sway
and took place of the 5 million people
living down below, back on the ground.

The remainder of the cars,
that the seven and a half million people
once used,
got up and walked to the ocean.