Good to read of another side of Christmas, Max. Final line a bit oddly constructed I thought and perhaps you might have done more with that image of differential sacks.
Dreck a new coinage to me, here explained:
dreck
Yiddish/German word for crap, garbage, trash, etc. The kind of shit that you don't want to step in, and if you do, you'll be walking funny for the next two blocks in an attempt to scrape it off your shoe.
The term is sometimes used to refer to Luke fon Fabre, protagonist of the game "Tales of the Abyss."
Ew, you went out with that slut? She's total dreck. Dump her immediately.
by Numdenu November 21, 2010
Bill
On 18/12/2014, at 8:55 AM, Max Richards wrote:
> Winter Stranger
>
> Where are the snows of last week-end?
> The sun shines on that distant range
> without diminishing its glory.
>
> Shadows cluster round the dreck
> that didn’t melt away when sidewalks
> dried - gutters stay ice-clogged.
>
> Sun each day promises warmth yet
> bright morning fades, noon’s not high,
> afternoon short, sunset early, dark.
>
> The homeless, pitched in their camp
> near the freeway din by the iced
> slope the weather beats on, lie low.
>
> The length of our most genteel street
> is traversed by its evening traffic -
> dogs with their humans, those who work late.
>
> Under a light a young couple grapples
> in slow motion, not going anywhere
> but signaling Soon we must part.
>
> To our surprise, there looms a great
> lumbering heavy-laden tramp,
> as if just back from Siberia.
>
> A dark bedroll makes him seven feet
> tall, other clobber rounds him out.
> He’s used to this, year round, but winter?
>
> My dog bristles - I take a sharp
> detour. Our eyes don’t meet. Would
> he expect something from me? ‘Good-day’?
>
> ‘Have a good evening’? Charity?
> Proof he doesn’t scare me? (I wouldn’t
> call police - Salvation Army, maybe.)
>
> He may or may not know where he’ll
> unroll his pack and lie down tonight.
> Dog and I suffer no such doubt.
>
> He sees our houses’ bright lit trees, porches
> and windows, some hung with red stockings.
> Keep the children from view while he passes -
>
> you wouldn’t want them to see him.
> He has nothing for them in his sack.
> You mightn’t want him to see them.
>
> One last glimpse - our formidable
> stranger mid-street stooping as if
> for something dropped there, edible.
>
> Max Richards
> Seattle, December 2014
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