is Tuesday
I suspect this choice furrows your brow
let me explain

at 5am I hear the chunk  whinge  whir
this mechanical displacement of collections unneeded
giant claws mouthing these neighbored contents into its hang dog maw
in winter  the handlers  like dark skirting ants travel by foot darting alongside
summer sees  full neon splendor
this small touch of humanity  the structural reminder of systems  our intelligent world
outside my front door