Near a Pennsylvania Landfill

Noel Sloboda

L
and of dump trucks. On Route 83
they press in on either side. Never seen a new one.
Only banged-up veteran agents, walling in a VIP,
waiting for a shot, only half hoping it won’t come.
One behemoth blocks my vision, the road ahead
obscured. Another wheeled box looms in the mirror.

At least, they don’t smell; like most junk,
theirs is well wrapped. Giant packages,
daubed in pretty bright greens and reds.
They bulge with everything
sent to Amish country from New Jersey:
the result of some backroom deal, maybe,
brokered by farmers for unlimited trash pick-ups.