Day 683 May 16, 2022

Pickers

After the students leave 

behind the wall mirrors, 

desk lamps, 

polyester fill quilts, 

mattress pads, 

trampoline chairs, 

trash cans, 

window fans, 

non-sentimental dish ware, 

an unopened bag of cracked corn, 

a half used package of floor wipes. 

The trash men 

do their job carefully, 

picking out the treasures 

among the refuse, 

assessing the condition, 

and choosing which pieces 

to stow up front in the cab. 

I imagine the inside of their cab 

a veritable floating flea market oasis, 

bouncing up over curbs, 

following the sidewalk cuts. 

I am envious of their discoveries 

as I was once a purveyor of dumpsters. 

A picker of college town leavings. 

I furnished homes in that way, 

though the fear of bedbugs 

has all but stopped those old joys. 

A mid-century chair, 

a bedside table, 

several floor lamps, 

a dresser, 

chipboard shelving units, 

there must have been other things. 

A rug. 

The town’s take it or leave it 

was amazing. 

College professors 

cleaning out their offices as they retired 

left behind state of the art 

1970s hifi 

speakers and receivers. 

KLHs and ARs. 

Old record collections 

musty like someone’s basement 

or mothball closet. 

An old cassette deck. 

Treasures for the taking. 

These days, 

I buy too many things. 

It is easier, 

less likely to cause infestation, 

and takes less time. 

But it is less rewarding, 

less satisfying, 

than searching for anything, 

and finding it.

The lawn before mowing.