A bin-man joins
the dawn chorus
with a whistle
of his own design.

The truck's rusting
metal mechanism
grinds its gears
in symphony
through a pulp
of plastic bags.

While the trash
stinks of cabbage,
worse are the smells
of the driveways
as the early workers'
morning ablutions
drift from steaming
bathroom vents.

The sickening marriage
of faeces and 'Brut'
emanates from the homes
of those who later
will cross the road
with upturned noses.

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