A truck with “eco” on the side hoists a skip up over its head and inverts it.

It winnows a broad range of detritus across the carpark. 

Bloody tissues dance and pivot in the wind.

Plastic skins find graves amongst the overgrown shrubbery. 

Offal is swooped upon by gulls.

The driver seethes at the sky as another cumulus king

bunches up over Hemi.

A torrent starts to fall from on high.

The truck ingests that which hasn’t blown away.

The driver swears at a passing murder of SUVs.

Beneath the tarmac old gods flex and churn.

There is an excess of waste to be managed.

To be directed.  And scattered.

The skip is placed back down to be refilled.

There is plenty more where that came from.

Plenty more to be stashed in a midden,

and plenty more to be fed to the sea.

Hidden away, so we can pretend the world is scrubbed clean.