There are new bins down the back alley.
The old dumpsters were green and had the yellow WM lettering
for waste management.
These new ones are solid black with no writing on them
to denote anything.
I walk down the alley with my shoes undone
toss a couple bags in the new dumpster
closest my current residence.
Then I am back upstairs with the other current thing in my life.
Well?, she says,
holding her hands out as if trying
to catch an invisible rain.
New shoes?, I ask.
She shakes her head.
The table silly, I moved it three inches closer to the couch.
So what do you think?
Yes, I was going to say the table next.
She eyes me as though I have just told all the lies in history
with a single utterance.
It is summer hot and the fan is broken.
We will be fighting over something trivial soon.
It is kind of our thing.
The last one got angry quicker but this one stays angry longer.
I walk over to the window behind her and look out.
New dumpster, same old garbage.
The bags piled high. Broken open and stinking.
Something with a blue racing stripe and tinted windows
speeds down the alley
and is gone.
The drone of a pounding car stereo heard
for some minutes more.