Bob

I live in
the country
and I have to
take my trash
to a community
dumpster.
We have
2 we go to.
The one we go
to all the time
is 5 miles
from our home.
I do not like
it the man operating
the dumpster
is like the trash
police.
He watches ,shakes
and grabs the
bags to make
sure you recycle.
I should recycle
but I do not.
Its just not easy
to do where I live.
The second place
I take trash
is
by my old house.
And I love it.
The Guy who
runs it is this
little old man.
His name is Bob.
He has arthritis
in his hands and they
curl up slightly.
His back is so
rounded and
he scoots as he walks.
He really does not
care what you throw
in the trash.
But he does not
want you to lift
your bags if you
are a woman.
So this 80 yr old
man scoots around
and goes from
car to car trying
to scoop up the
bags from the woman.
If you are a man,
you are on your own.
I feel so bad when
he comes for my
bags, He can barley
lift them.
Every time he sees
me he scoots right
for me.
He always smiles
big and says.
Where have you
been? I missed you.
Bob is like a hairdresser.
He knows everything
about everybody.
People drive from all over
just to see him.
Today he scooted
over to me , I
have not seen you
forever, he smiles.
I love your hair he
says. You look so
beautiful.
he says.
Thanks Bob.
I got my bags they
are heavy today.
I reply.
What kind of
man would I
be if I let you
carry those bags?
he said.
He scooted over and
with his hands curled
over from the arthritis
grabbed the bags.
Thank you Bob.
I reply.
As he scooted
past he said to
me. You do no
think I work
here for the trash
do you?
Its all about
the
beautiful things
I get to look at.
He winks and scoots
by.
Meanwhile I watch
the other men. they toss their
bags in the trash, not helping
Bob or any other woman.
Bob is one in a million.
And he is 100% man,
which is so
hard to find.