High pitched junkie screams
coming from old ancient gravel pits—dead dreams
all from old rotten paper
evictions notices lay beside lease agreements
paycheck stubs rot together with termination notices
birth certificates swallowed by death forms
bank records by the million of bankrupt companies
old crossword puzzles solved
out of date phone books in stacks thirty feet high
acres of shredded documents whose secrets are safe
old love letters from ex-lovers who died young
mountains of last years’ newspapers loom darkly
silver cans filled with torn tickets and tokens
barns filled with old airline tickets that fall over
gutters clogged with little dance rave notices
japanese trash bins holding old chinese fortune cookie messages
election yard sign the day after still rooting for a failed candidate
where does it end?