Garbage Glam
My town has what is kindly referred to as The Duxbury Mall. When a local says, “I got THIS from the Mall,” it means, roughly, “Look at the crap I got, for FREE, at the garbage dump!” You see, the town of Duxbury doesn’t have trash pick-up, which means that people chauffeur their garbage and recyclables to the town dump, often stopping at the Dunkin’ Donuts for a hot cocoa. Garbage hauling is thirsty business. At the Mall, junk that’s precious and not like plain-old-junk junk is set aside in a central area for fellow junkies. Shoplifting encouraged.
Needless to say, I like to take the slow scenic drive and meander about the piles. One never knows what one may find. Bulldozers add to the excitement, scraping out the old junk to make room for fresh freebies. Legends abound. It is said that Patty’s spouse, in 2003, found a SkeeterVac mosquito killer, new in the box. I myself found 86 plastic wind-up toys that sat in my basement for three years before I returned ’em to the Mall. Boy, the things people throw away. Last week a man left with a 4-foot-tall furry brown animatronic pony that whinnied and swished its tail and was missing only its passenger-side ear. I could go on. You know I could... I feel typey tonight. I could type and type and type and type and type. Jazz hands!
Now it’s time to get real. I’m going to be straight with you. Occasionally whilst window shopping one comes upon sad sights. One rainy day not long ago my trip to the Duxbury Mall took a turn for the worse. For, behind the dot matrix printer and salad tongs, past the fish aquarium, coffee mugs, and leaking beanbag chair, and behind the upright wooden piano, I saw, sequestered all alone—sigh!—this...
See? Look at it. Look! It’s difficult, I know...
That poor, freakish amputee. Like a secret mermaid; her lower fish half, invisible. Or embedded in stone by a magical garbage unicorn potion I found under a broken-down animal crate. Oh boy, the things people throw away!
Needless to say, I like to take the slow scenic drive and meander about the piles. One never knows what one may find. Bulldozers add to the excitement, scraping out the old junk to make room for fresh freebies. Legends abound. It is said that Patty’s spouse, in 2003, found a SkeeterVac mosquito killer, new in the box. I myself found 86 plastic wind-up toys that sat in my basement for three years before I returned ’em to the Mall. Boy, the things people throw away. Last week a man left with a 4-foot-tall furry brown animatronic pony that whinnied and swished its tail and was missing only its passenger-side ear. I could go on. You know I could... I feel typey tonight. I could type and type and type and type and type. Jazz hands!
Now it’s time to get real. I’m going to be straight with you. Occasionally whilst window shopping one comes upon sad sights. One rainy day not long ago my trip to the Duxbury Mall took a turn for the worse. For, behind the dot matrix printer and salad tongs, past the fish aquarium, coffee mugs, and leaking beanbag chair, and behind the upright wooden piano, I saw, sequestered all alone—sigh!—this...
See? Look at it. Look! It’s difficult, I know...
That poor, freakish amputee. Like a secret mermaid; her lower fish half, invisible. Or embedded in stone by a magical garbage unicorn potion I found under a broken-down animal crate. Oh boy, the things people throw away!
Comments
When somebody loved me
Everything was beautiful
Every hour we spent together
Lives within my heart
And when she was sad
I was there to dry her tears
And when she was happy, so was I
When she loved me
*Boo Hoo*
And, like, did you make that thing up yourself because, like, I’d be terribly impressed if you did because that would mean it is, like, the first poem comment Small & Big has heretofore received and plus it, like, allowed me to use “heretofore” and lots of “like”.
But yes, it's about getting dumped. Beatiful song though. Look it up on youtube. It'll make you cry.