The Ritual of Tuesday

Garbage cans rumble, the sound of the week,

as wheels scrape the asphalt, a rhythm unique.

Tuesday mornings hang heavy, like old friends we fear,

a tether to time that feels oddly near.

Each flick of a lid, a moment relayed,

every routine, a reminder, unmade.

I sip on my coffee, thoughts tangled in haze,

watching the world move in its familiar ways.