TRASH CAN BLUES

Man, these bins are singin' the blues today. Every time I walk by, it's a whole lament of rusty metal. The wind whips around, makin' 'em clatter like a broken band. Makes you wonder what stories they whisper - tales of leftovers, maybe even some lies. Ain't that somethin', a symphony of junk? Maybe it's a warning to throw away our cares - or maybe