Christmas Eve 2008
I walked home from the tire store
On Christmas Eve
Through the industrial part of town.
A foot of snow was turning
To a thick soup in the street.
It was raining off and on.
In places melt water was deeper
Than the tops of my boots.
I past three homeless guys
Swaddled in rags
Sharing a six pack in a door way.
I slogged on.
It was slow going
On the still frozen pavement
Against a blustery, fickle wind
That soon blew my umbrella out.
Under the on-ramp
People had built
Makeshift tents,
Blankets draped over shopping carts,
Pieces of card board.
Under a stair a guy had built
a little room out of blue tarpolines
A living room for
A homeless genius
The resident was sitting in the door way
Watching me pass.
My feet were wet
My feet were cold.
But I had a room with heat.
A shower, a stove to go too.
Wishing him a Merry Christmas
Would have been too bitter.
I walked on in silence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem