A Garbage Romance

The Rainy Day Indian Food Blues

We saw each other every Friday morning

I lived in apt 648

He was a Garbageman.

The rain poured down on me like the flood of an angry god as I ran out the door of my apartment with the fruit of my forgetfulness in hand.

A week-old extra spicy curry cooked goat nuggets sat at the bottom of my white glad garbage bag. The bag was so overloaded from me continually pushing more and more refuse into its straining bulk that the red tie cords had stretched thin like razor wire and was cutting into my hand

I tasted the putrid city rain mix with the salt of my tears as I saw the red lights of the garbage truck driving up to the corner.

I would never be able to chase it down in time and even if I was fast enough there was no way to catch it with the Garfield sized dumps my cat had been taking after getting into the leftovers of my week old curry soaked goat nuggets (I should probably take him to the vet)

I stood there in the gutter wishing the rain would sweep me along like so many styrofoam cups and cigarette butts when I heard the most beautiful sound.

You how when you're a kid and you hear the sound of heavy machinery backing up and it makes that noise like satans cell phone? Well at that moment it sounded like heaven to me.

As the purr of the diesel engine moved closer to me I kept my eyes on the leaves and dirty water swirling around my feet afraid that if I looked up the great green and grey trash eating beat would be spooked.

I stayed that way until I felt a breath cooler than the dismal day's air on my cheek.

"Misssss" the voice whispered in my ear.

"Would you like me to take that for you?"

I shuddered as the breath accompanying the voice tickled my ear.

Shyly raising my head and the hand holding the garbage bag at the same time I got my first look at my jumpsuited angel.

He had eyes greener than the tears of a vegan.

I was so lost in his gaze that I barely registered him bringing his hand to his mouth and removing his glove with his teeth.

He stepped towards me off the truck causing me to involuntarily take a step away.

With a un gloved hand, he caught my wrist and held me, gently but firmly. His hand was soft and smooth like bathroom glass. With his other hand, he reached up and gently took the garbage sack from me tossing into the truck behind him without taking his gaze from mine.

We seemed to share that moment for an eternity and for no time at all.

Without a word he stepped back onto his truck and with a hiss and and a chunk they both began to move away.

"Will I ever see you again?" I said breathlessly, madly as I stumbled out into the street.

"Yessss," he said with a smile on his lips.

"Nexssssst Friday."

And just like that

He was gone.

Part 2

A Poop and a Party.

I didn't wind up seeing him again that following Friday I was to busy sitting on the toilet eyeing my cat as we promised each other that this was the last time we would EVER eat those damn deep fried curry soaked goat nuggets from that ethnic place down the street. After the eye-watering vein popping ordeal was done I found myself back in a familiar predicament.