'Trashballs' turn rubbish to art

09 Apr 2007

Original article

Our quarter's in, we pull the knob,
a ball's dispensed, but we conclude
that, if there's any gum inside,
the chances are it's ready-chewed.

What wonders are contained within
protected by this plastic crust:
a Barbie's hand, some silly-string,
a ring-pull that's begun to rust?

This beetle must have seen such sights;
he buzzed through hazed Manhattan skies.
On whose coiffed heads did he alight?
Which sidewalk brought his stomped demise?

What gawky teenage fumbling,
what practised love, what weekend fling
made Central Park be littered with
discarded Durex packaging?

What cuckold penned these broken lines
on crumpled notebook (wide-ruled, blue)
all torn along the right-hand side -
directed to a faceless "you":

I never really liked the way
the wrong way round. Your ass looks like
repulsive face, I hate that bitch
eventually to be a dyke

And who one day will pull the knob,
release another trash-filled ball,
and find the left-torn counterpart
and find it makes no sense at all?

you always hung the toilet roll
a hippo's rear. So does your mom's
but mostly hate how you turned out
and screw my sister at her prom.