Alley Offerings

I passed the bins today,

the usual overflowing mess,

a slick of grease, discarded paper.

And then I saw it, lodged there,

a flyer, soaked and gray.

Rain had blurred the ink,

the date long past, the band

I barely recall hearing.

It was trash, of course,

but it held a shape,

a memory.

A moment I’d thrown away,

now held fast by rot,

a silent accusation

from the alley’s maw.