Rubbish

Every night
before bin collection day I forget
whether it’s general waste and cardboard
or glass and plastic I need to put out,
so I look outside the living room window to see
what bins the next door neighbour’s lined up,
the one to the left
who trims her shrubs with a smile
and has hair as snow white and trustworthy
as David Attenborough’s.
In the short walk down the stairs
towards my front door I think I hear
her husband in his purple trilby laughing,
convinced today is the day he’s finally tricked me.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

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