the poobin man

we finally met him
by the bins
Stanley and I
(or is it me and Stanley?
I’m not
too hot
on grammar, evidently)

we were walking
through the estate
around half past eight
(which is just for the rhyme:
actually it was more like half past nine)
and there he was!
dressed in fluorescent yellow because
he has one of those street collecting jobs
where it pays to be nice n’conspicuous, obvs

a baseball cap
earbuds in, listening to an app
because I guess the job’s crap
and let’s face it
who wouldn’t use some music to erase it

there he was!
master of the waste collecting gods!
riding his tiny, shiny van
the mythological POOBIN MAN!

a bit grumpy though
when I smiled and said yo!
I’ve got a little something for ya
swinging a poo bag Stan filled earlier
hoping he’d say something cool like ‘Poo me’
but he ground his teeth and looked right through me

Poobin, Poobin, whither thou goest?
what foul bags wilt thy gauntlets knowest?
and verily when it snowest
I’m guessing
it’s a blessing
as the poo will be frosty and attractively glaucous
with a little less chance of enterococcus

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