Garbage Balloon by Jason Fisk

My wife and I passed

a Mylar balloon hovering

over an open garbage bin

bobbing on the breeze

trying to free itself

from the trash

The roar of the garbage truck

cracked the suburban silence

as the trash truck gobbled up

the curbside containers

The balloon’s dancing

suddenly turned

into a panicked flailing

I yanked the tether free

and watched it float

Silver light dancing

as it sailed toward the sun That’s bad for the environment my wife said It wanted it to be free I replied You’re projecting she said

Projecting?

I asked

We walked in silence

Aren’t we all just trying

to free ourselves

from the trash?

I asked

It’s just a balloon

she said

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Jason Fisk lives and writes in the suburbs of Chicago. He has worked in a psychiatric unit, labored in a cabinet factory, and mixed cement for a bricklayer. www.jasonfisk.com