Son of a Gun

I opened my eyes and looked at my watch.

It was 3:49 p.m.

Lying on the alcove couch, a story gelled in my mind.

***

Living close to a city dump everyday, I would watch a fleet of city garbage trucks. 

Heavily loaded, they struggled to climb a steep hill. To make it, they had to shift in low gear, making a grinding noise resonating through the canyon.

You saw them but you couldn’t hear them.

Reaching the top, they drove a short distance to a smelly field, tilted their load, which slid off.

Repulsed by the sounds and smells, they couldn’t wait to get out of the area.

They had their load “signed off” by a guy wearing a mask, turned around and headed downhill.

They had done their job.

The load they dumped was food for the chattering birds.

Squawking wildly, vultures, falcons, hawks surrounded me.

I quickly got in my car. I saw a site I had never seen, nor will ever forget.

(August 23, 2022)