Dustbins

Third town in three years,

and a job in the mill,

cleaning dustbins at night.

It’s minimum wage, but you get Labor Day off,

and enough money left over on payday

to buy a carton of cigarettes and a case of beer.

Lot rent is due every Saturday

Don't forget to pay the light bill.

The damn school needs more money?

Day's are too short and nights too long.

Kids are raising themselves--

And you see them,

every day on your drive to the office

and when you drop your kids off at school

but you’re too busy to notice the dirty jeans,

and shaved haircut of the kid who just hopped off the bus

and is rushing to the cafeteria for his first meal since school lunch yesterday,

weekends are cold pop-tarts and stale-barbeque chips.

Momma’s working two shifts at the greasy-spoon

and who the Hell knows where daddy’s run off to.

But in the end, it doesn’t really matter,

cause come Monday morning that yellow bus is coming to rescue him

from the countless hours of reality TV, and flat coke,

and smoking fake joints with the thirteen-year-old next door

who just stole his brother’s rolling papers and his sister’s lighter.

But, hey, life really begins on that bus;

an hour and a half ride

learning new cuss words and hoping the eighth graders in the back

don’t start teasing him about his dirty shirt or his coat that’s a little too small,

so, he sinks down in his seat and holds on to the only good thing he’s got,

a made-up memory of grandpa’s farm

milking cows and catfishing all night with the older brother he never had

and big family meals with table cloths and apple pie

birthday presents in wrapping paper and cousins to play with on Thanksgiving afternoon

while Daddy and Uncle Jim stretch out and watch football.  

The jolt from the bus-stop jars him awake

and he hops off and heads for that little carton of 2% milk and mini-box of Lucky Charms--

All he has to do is hand them his punch card with the rest of the free-lunch kids.

Author's Note

https://soundcloud.com/user-74706948/dustbins

Reviews

[Papaya]

not exactly like this but definitely reminds me of a less fortunate childhood you could say... i think because we were immigrants though, there were good people that went out of their way to help us but i know poverty. i never owned a doll or a new piece of clothing until i was old enough to pay for it myself. what strikes me here though is the flat coke and stale chips and I wonder as the parents that would spend the little they have on such garbage. your stories always touch me heart in some way because they are very human

[James]

I'm always amazed at that, too.

Poverty is a learned behavior, unfortunately, that's why it's so hard to get out of it. We were part of the working poor and I hated that free lunch card more than anything in the world.

[Papaya]

thank you for understand my review that was full of typos! I was typing on the little screen of my phone. :) Anyhow, it's good to look back at where we came from to appreciate all we have, right?

[James]

I think that it is, and I think I've finally gotten to a place in my life where I can look back without all the resentment.

I always enjoy seeing you here. thanks.

[Lorry]

Sadly, this is based in truth rather than fiction for so many kids and families, going into the brave new world of 2017. Just living, surviving as it comes. Powerful write my friend.

[Michael X]

I like this a lot, the reader can't help but go back in time, and we live the expeience, free lunch kids.

[James]

Sometimes it's nice to go back and get reminded. Thanks.

[Tony Jordan]

I'm actually speechless for once. except Very well written. James
100/100

[James]

I'm glad you think so. Thanks for the wonderful comment.

[Tony Jordan]

Oh can I just say - the title was what grabbed me.
You're welcome

[barleygirl]

You (in poetry) & Sam Dickens (in prose) are two writers who can paint the most vivid scenarios of bleak lives, yet without the overall message being too depressing, just intensely realistic with amazing recall for details from the past, such as fake joints well described. I also rode the bus for 1-1/2 hrs each way & it was my escape from an abusive family life. I can vouch that you've painted this with startling accuracy.

[andrew mitchell]

What a sad and hard life with a feeling of where will this end for them. A high price for freedom in a way considering people in jail get three meals a day, exercise and watch TV. an informative write.

[...]

You put so much heart and soul into your art. Full of meaning, full of truth...real...and penatrating.

[James]

Thank you so much. That's a wonderful compliment.

[Einstein Noodle]

"Lot rent is due every Saturday" ...your poem has resurrected many thoughts and feelings with just that line ..wow ..had forgotten the "Trailer Camp" ..its where we started our little family ...sadly as i read on your poem's purpose comes more and more into focus ..it is a very real tragedy that runs every day ..just as the school bus does ..in all our inner city "hoods" and urban lanes ... lack of home life with both parents in support of strong morality, ethics and achieving devastates our nation ... well done says i!
E.

[James]

Unfortunately, this is life for so many people. I know i learned a lot in that trailer park...most of it I want to forget.

[Einstein Noodle]

:( God bless you man! There are a lot of things in life that are better left forgotten eh!? love and peace my friend