Garbagelogy Origins

The world moves under me. In minutes, I’m in Amsterdam, China, Italy, Ireland, Puerto Rico, The Ukraine, and The Middle East and on and on. The night is beginning its eternal run. With a mere thought, I crush everything in a universe that Albert Einstein believed wastes nothing. I waved my hand and an iron container is lifted into the air. It dumps garbage as hydraulics hiss like serpents in heat. In the bright lights of limo cars, I hurl dozens of heavy black bags non-stop into the seemingly bottomless hole of a waste disposal truck. “I admire your work ethic,” said a retired police officer working security at Spice Market where attractive waitresses dream of becoming stars in The City of Angels. I pull back my hood and smile at the evening over the Hudson River. After all this time, it’s good to be back on Earth. There’s so much work to be done. I look at the cop and realized we have something in common. “What’s that?” he asked.

We both take out the trash.