Drafted in the Static
Morning leaks into the alley
Two garbage men rolling the city awake
The bins clatter, metal loves metal
Breath in the sky flickers like it forgot how to stay on
That day one mutters
But the words fold, break, fall apart before they land
A notice hangs above the landfill
Paper trembling in the wind
Draft report, no choice, they stare at it
Hoping the letters night shift rearrange into something kinder
They don't
The truck idles low, dying stubborn
The world jumps sideways, a sudden click in reality
Workers, soldiers, trash sorters
Routine fades
One laughs, sharp as tin
The other curses, softer
Both climb back into the cab
Driving toward whatever
The next version of the day