Thursday, February 25, 2010

In The Alley

by Ted Kooser

In the alley behind the florist's shop,
a huge white garbage truck was parked and idling.
In a cloud of exhaust, two men in coveralls
and stocking caps, their noses dripping,
were picking through the florist's dumpster
and each had selected a fistful of roses.

As I walked past, they gave me a furtive,
conspiratorial nod, perhaps sensing
that I, too (though in my business suit and tie)
am a devotee of garbage – an aficionado
of the wilted, the shopworn, and the free—
and that I had for days been searching
beneath the heaps of worn-out, faded words
to find this brief bouquet for you.

please note: photo by piedmont fossil

5 comments:

  1. Aaaahhhh...

    That just hit the spot!

    Thank you, ma chère Distracted friend.

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  2. As an inveterate hunter in the dumpster of life, I can relate... one never knows where a beautiful bouquet may be hiding amidst the brambles of this "bas monde"...

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  3. And somewhere (not here, not yet) the trees and bushes on the boulevard are throwing out bouquets for free.

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  4. Now if a man spoke these words to me, I think I'd swoon.

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  5. I think I must comment on every poem you post, but then I realize I read them in Google reader, and I only respond in my heart.

    Love it here.

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Hey, thanks for your thoughts and your time:>)