Taking Out the Stupid Garbage

it is Friday,
thank fucking god,
and like my brain and belly,
the trash bin has been filling up,
getting smelly, needing to be emptied.

it's a draw string number,
don't know if it is brand name or not,
but it rips and I have to rig it
just to get it out of the can.

I wish I was at a resort
in the Bahamas or Colorado,
but I am not,
I am here wrapping my brain around this smell.

There should be a reggae song
about this, taking out the office garbage,
but there isn't, because it is gross,
and I feel unworthy these days.

I suck it up and walk down the hall,
passing the old brunette, who says hi,
and I say hi,
and then I toss the bag in the dumpster.

Let's call it a day,
complete with cleaned coffee carafe,
and so much more,
like the possibility of tomorrow,
and the where we go.