Sunday, 22 January 2012
Today I watched Mulleady’s man
collecting all those bottles and cans
Bottles of sin and cans of cheer
relics of Yuletide and vague New Year.
Green glass here and brown glass there
and white glass-mountains everywhere.
Green bin low and brown bin lower
white bin getting sick all over.
“Why do they go in different piles?
I asked the nice man; never smiles.
“It’s because of the colour, I suppose” he said,
Then he dumped them all in the self same bed
in back of the big truck, coloured blue,
where they couldn’t be seen by me or you.
There they mixed and splintered into one
and captured at their own speed the rays of the sun.
"It’s a bit like us" I thought out loud
colour divides the meek and proud
until their lives are spent and gone,
Then they melt together just as one.