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out of date phone books in stacks thirty feet high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?