The Ghost in the Garbage Can

There’s a dumpster near my place

That smells bad

But it’s shorter to the 7-11.

When it’s dark

Misting a little

I hear a voice.

“I was small.

I was out of sight.

And I wasn’t very smart.”

It’s always the same.

“I was small –

Like our earth from a space probe.

Invisible –

Like your hopes when you’re deep asleep.

Not smart –

So what can I say?

“I wish – well –

If I had of been big

Like Serena Williams.

They wouldn’t have messed

With Serena Willams.”

It was fading.

“If I’d had some money...”

I rubbed the mist on my face

To come to my senses.

I always hear that voice in the garbage can.

That choice in the garbage can.

28 April 2015

Acyutananda has a pro-life blog at

#volume4issue3 #abortion

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