Scrap Metal Boys

Surly and skinny

They slinkstrut about

The recycling depo.

Their sinewy brown limbs,

Peppered with scars and scabs,

Look incongruous

Against oversized

Boots and gloves

And their baggy

Shorts and t-shirts.

You might laugh

If not for their faces.

A Valiant pulls up

Disgorges a bent old man

In a white shirt and suit pants

He carefully opens the boot

And waits for a scrap metal boy

To remove garbage bags from within

‘You no cheat me. I count them.’

He berates the lad

Who drags the bottle-loaded bags

Past me to the sorting table

‘Fuckinwogcunt’ a muttered mantra

While the old man watches him sort

Another sidles up and

Slags in the boot.

A shaved headed scrap metal boy

Swaggers from the office

With my cash

He has a scar over his eye

From a torn out eyebrow ring

He hands me shy of ten dollars.

The air is filled with

The reek of stale beer, and

The roar of forklifts, and

Gangsta rap

From a tinny old stereo

His eyes dare me to complain

‘Cheers mate.’

I hop into my car.

Too many places

To hide a body here.