DEPOSIT TRASH

DEPOSIT TRASH

That's me
hanging around the "Motel"
near the spot where a sign
reads, "Deposit Trash,"

where chipmunks congregate
in the city
climb a single tree
in our concrete jungle -

That's me
leaning against red brick
seeing less than you
knowing all there is
to know - about
"Depositing Trash,"

watching people strut
by in suits
while I still wear
open toe shoes in
late fall -
forgot to paint my
toe nails and clip
the longest on the
big toe . . .
but no one knows

That's me
a reflection on a
dirty window showing
my age - showing me,
a faceless woman -
a shadow in black
leaning against
red brick near that
sign "Deposit Trash,"

where few people
notice I walk a
little crooked -
I seldom smile -
I seldom laugh -
I seldom deposit
my trash

It is me in the
reflection - I lift
my arm to cross
my chest - as if to
feel my own heart
race - then move
rub my back against
red brick to stop
the itch

That's me
waiting for a stranger
in a yellow cab - to
slow up in front of the
motel window - a
reflection in black - to
pick up - then deposit
trash.

Nancy Duci Denofio
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