strivingto

i have a huge crush on a dumpster


There’s this dumpster
behind this ice cream parlor
not too far from
my house
that I have a crush on.

Remember
when you were a little kid
and you’d see
a teacher
or doctor
or just some regular adult
and when you looked at them
you’d hide behind
your mom’s or dad’s legs
because looking at the adult
made you feel queasy
and nervous
in this tingly yet unidentifiable feeling
you couldn’t yet
comprehend?

That’s how I feel
when I look at
this dumpster.

The dumpster
makes me feel like
a giddy school boy

and if the dumpster and I
were in middle school
together
I’d be a pussy
and slide an anonymous note
into its locker
and it would say
something like,
    “I like you like you,
        xoxoxoxoxo”

It’s beautiful,
    the dumpster,
because it’s not
me,

because it is unlike
everyone else,

because it has
the courage to be

exactly

what it is;

    a big,
    stained,
    reeking
    retirement home
    for garbage.

And it never tries
to be
anything
other than that
either.

It never sways,
strays
or bends
to the fads
and fake tits of society
that we are told
are real
and good
but,
    deep down,
know they’re not.

It stays
what it is,
    the dumpster,

what it is supposed to,
    and meant to,
be,

even though
it’s something “gross”
and “dirty”
and looked down upon
by everyone.

But they
don’t get it.

They don’t see
it’s strength,

it’s courage to stay
what it is
when living in a world
that thinks so lowly
of what it is,

in a world
where everyone is striving
to become the exact same
false idol,
    and where everyone
    gladly/thoughtlessly modifies
    what they are
    in order to be looked
    up to.

It’s refreshing
to see something
stand its dirty
ground,

to remain ugly
in a world that is only
concerned with beauty

and,
    therefore,
making the dumpster itself
more beautiful than the mental image
of a dozen kittens
crawling all over a naked Katy Perry
sprawled out on a velvet couch
Kate Winslet-style
a la “Titanic.”

I have a huge crush
on a dumpster.

I wanna settle down
with it
by living inside it
and having people
throw their garbage in
on top of me,

    burying me in it,

    a constant reminder
    to stay the dirty, low down,
    low class,
    beautiful piece of shit
    I am

and not the superficial,
damp turd
everyone allows themselves
to be
groomed into.

We would have
a wonderful life
together,
    myself and my dumpster.

At first
I was thinking about
taking the dumpster
someplace scenic
and beautiful
on our inevitable
honeymoon,

    like Bermuda

but then I came
to my senses
and I was all like,
    “Nahhhhhhhhh…

Mozambique
it is.”


© Calvero 2014