Because it is raining
someone is sipping tea
writing a poem
perhaps a sonnet or two
But when it rains
I swing off the garbage truck
the cans slimy and slippery
trash slithers into the truck
compactor smashes
yesterday’s bargains
steaks and wine bottles
newspapers and condoms
and every now and then
a dead pet
perhaps a hamster
more likely a cat
into oblivion
and someone
is sipping tea
as the compactor grinds on.