Here's My Trash, or Thoughts, Whatever.

Collect my thoughts
girl
Like a tax man in the middle
of the month
Like a janitor
at night
And the way bums do
in trash.

Everything I'm telling you
I've said before
to another pair of ears
that tried to be the first
to know and get
inside
And in retelling tales
recounting lines
and spinning a yarn
or two
or more
you're just like the bum
sifting through trash.

I'm a throw away Christmas gift
a return
Not what was advertised
first night
when eyes shined
and smile promised
hands in hair coaxed
tongue in mouth cared
but all these thoughts
rubs, kisses and lines
are recycled from
trash
that I threw out somewhere
back there
and you came along
like a bum
thinking the bucket
was a present
meant only for you
and nobody else.

you fucking bums
are all alike.