Well, it’s going to be trash day again soon in the town of Newport. I know this because pretty much everywhere I go in town I see discarded items by the side of the road. In front of one red-brick home are two tan reclining chairs that have seen better days, sitting there waiting for the rain. The sidewalk a few yards down sports a large-screen television set that looks like it could be plugged in and work just as it always has. But as I pass it by, I know it is not destined for greater things like reliving the past. Its soul is long gone, for one reason or another, and it cannot be revived. In the adjoining neighborhood a cradle is bent over, its padded guts spilling over onto the street proper, mourning a better life.
These things and more are populating the sidewalks in Newport like ghosts come out to play, for one last day, for one last hour, until the sun goes down, the garbage man comes on trash day, and they’re gone forever. Perhaps a bell rings and the heavenly host come out to wish them well on their trip to the garbage dump far out in Ava. Or maybe they’re just completely forgotten by everyone and everything that used to share space with them. But for now there they sit, hoping someone comes along who thinks they’re still worthy of love, of commitment, and of time. Before it’s too late.
Sam
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