TWO PLACES

two places I spent last Thursday

TWO PLACES

perched on the highest pile above the vistas of waste
waiting to scavenge their next meal
the gulls hang out like teenagers at the mall
waiting to dip down like addicts
scrounging
sqawking
strutting
among the flies and wasted treasures
of burnt out stoves and thawed out freezers
heaps of angry eggshells wrapped in cellophane
reflecting the unnecesary piles of shit
smelling the odorless spillage of filth
glaring at the hidden forklift
and the wasted hillside beyond the dump
a gentlemanly gardener
not an old man but a young gardener
goes home to his garden
to listen to the creeping virginias and weeping willow
part scientist
part artist
part poet
part philosopher
part ploughman
modifying the climate around his home
being still but still moving
like the water flowing over the rocks
using flowers and plants to paint
with the sky as the canvas
planting only annuals
scavenging an avalanche of lifetime notes
a good plot for the mind