waste

one minute
more
if i make it, another
still looms large
a shadow down an alley
late at night, unending

never mind the dumpster, sitting
along the side, it's just a rest stop
inside rats forage,look
for company and a meal
detritus, life's throwaways

some people dive, others just curl up
a fetid fetus,
drained of color, lacking tools
or the will to stare
into solitude's soulless face

how much easier it is, to use a newspaper
for a shroud,
rather than read it, blanket oneself
with the grief and despair of others,
company for compost