Do you ever think that garbage cans look forward to garbage day?
For us an inconvenience, it's often gross and something we would rather not be doing
Inhaling fumes from pet waste and week old leftovers
It's enough to make a grown man cry
Especially if we miss that holy day of days

But sometimes, I feel sorry for inanimate objects, the things that go through my head while I'm driving to work, or from work, or to work, or from work

I think that garbage day is like a party for the trash cans, or maybe an open mic
Where they get to discuss all of the ***** things they've kept sealed underneath their lids for a whole week
They finally get to peek from around the side or back of the house
And people pay attention to them
Whether it's a parley with me as I beg mine not to tip over
Or a lift from the sanitation man into grotesque catharsis
They get to lighten their load for all the world to see
And then wait for their masters to go to work, or come home, or go to work, or come home
At the curb, they get to see something different
Instead of just stinking up the joint they can see people walking their dogs and driving by
And it isn't trash that they're filled with
But the winds of freedom
That come to liberate them from their posts at the side of the road
And if their insides are uncluttered, they are given the push that is often needed to roll into more.... aromatic pastures
It's downright inspirational, really

So next time you see one of these intrepid travellers adventuring down the street, just remember, it's garbage can, not garbage cannot