Every Wednesday

by Wayne Scheer

Wednesday is garbage day
in my neighborhood,
a magical day
when the detritus of the week
disappears into yawning,
growling trucks
operated by sleight-of-hand masters
capable of banishing kitchen trash
with a flick of a switch.

We take these urban heroes for granted,
yet every Wednesday,
no matter the weather,
they clear away the loose ends of our lives
in ways clinical psychologists
can only envy.

Their methods may seem harsh,
perhaps a bit gross,
but they sweep through my street
heavy with waste,
burdened by the weeks memories
and allow us to start anew.

You can have your Houdinis, your Copperfields and such,
take your Freuds, your Jungs, rabbis and priests;
give me the men and women of garbage pick-up
who do the work we despise
every Wednesday
making clean our lives.