Dumpster Bunny

Dumpster Bunny

They call me the Dumpster Bunny
and now it's supper time,
you know it don't seem funny
when you're trying hard to dine.

People seldom ever care
when you're looking for a meal,
they cannot know about your life
or how you really feel.

Never have they been that low
or scrounged a dumpster bin,
fighting with the rats for scraps
of tuna in a tin.

Searching through the smelly bags
for a decent pizza crust,
fighting off the hunger pangs
in a restaurant colored rust.

Dirty Kleenex by the hundreds
and a rotten apple core,
a feast for this unfortunate
who can't afford the store.

I found a wristwatch yesterday
with Rolex on the face,
when I wiped it on my sleeve
a Timex took its place.

Then the bottom came into view,
spaghetti's all I found,
too old, it was for me to eat,
I wept without a sound.

It's survival of the toughest,
may the strongest stomach win,
when you're that dumpster bunny,
jumping in the dumpster bin.

T.L. Finch

© Copyright 2007 T.L.Finch (UN: t.l.finch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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