the local waste station
is being protected, don't worry.
the security is tight. with
a mouth full, you can still hear
the growl of the mighty t-rex
as you roll in - in your dilapidated
red pick-up truck - to dispose
of empty paper orange juice boxes and
plastic and styrofoam left overs
from the christmas packages
that you got in the mail by order
thanks to credit cards and santa claus.
rest assured, your junk mail is safe
and your empty whine bottles too -
protected by the meanest looking
foot-tall rubber roto-mold tyrannosaurus
with a deep sea diver between his
mighty paint-chipped jaws of destruction.
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