USE FOR THE USELESS

At first you hear it

The shuffling, the scraping,

Feet and fingernails in tandem

A crown of hair, matted,

moving with intent, back bent

Pushing putrefaction and rot aside

Yesterdays left overs, turned over

for a prize of glass or plastic

And then you see it

His daily grind, his penitent prayer, 

at the altar of refuse in earnest quest

Garbage farmed for a harvest of cellophane

that feeds starving stomachs

Existence hinged on discovery

Action driven by abject poverty

No time for rest or luxury

as they find use for our useless 

And then you feel it

Your imagination in full spin as

you awake from your reverie

relief drowning the revulsion

Giving thanks to powers that be

that you are the audience

and not the performer of today's matinee