Dumpster Diving

The spirit of my father carries me
when I squat down, butt crack showing
to examine a piece of discarded furniture
or a painting on the street
finger it, knuckle it around and frown
before breaking into a grin
well, look at that! I’ll think
it’s nothing a little super glue can’t fix
and carry it home on my back beaming
imagining my partner will be quite pleased
and then totally crestfallen if he isn’t
dumping the item back onto the street
with a knuckle on where I’d imagine
its shoulder would be
I’ll whisper with my eyes, tough luck buddy
then for dinner, I’ll roll out a bunch of
three day old bread discarded from the bakery


2 thoughts on “Dumpster Diving

  1. Omg! This is ME (my dad’s daughter). Walking home after a drunken night, I saw a piece of wood in a skip (UK equivalent of a dumpster) that looked like it was the right size to fit over a fire that no longer worked. My husband was mortified as I clambered into the skip to retrieve it, but it was perfect fit haha.

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