The Garbage Man

 

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The garbage man of long ago has morphed before my eyes
into a Sanitation Engineer of moral size.
Where formerly I'd stuff a bag with all sorts of refuse,
I now must segregate egg shells from worn out tennis shoes.
Otherwise the garbage man -- I mean the Engineer! --
will have me drawn and quartered while his men look on and cheer.
O Potentate of Garbage, O High Priest of Heaps of Trash --
you used to be my servant but now you do hold the lash.
Spare me if I mix up plastic cups with orange peels . . .
and I will bring you sherbet and delightful fruit pastilles.
 

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