Dale
“Everyone counts or no one counts.” Michael Connelly
All day long the man was nasty
Spitting on the ground
Urinating on sidewalks
Obnoxious with cigarettes
Insulting
Cursing
With jerky motions
Now he was in a dark doorway
In Godawful clothing
On concrete
Cradling his head on a thin arm
His other hand tucked between his bony knees
For warmth
The woman had avoided him for years
Crossing the street when she saw him
That night she had quickly walked past him
But she looked back at him
From the safety of her car
She was pulled
To walk to him
To introduce herself
And to ask his name
“Dale, can I get you something?”
He was hungry and wanted pizza
Pizza with black olives and pepperoncini
And double pepperoni
And he told her where to get it
The woman hurried off into the cold night
She bought Dale’s pizza and brought it to him
And they stood in silence
And Dale was self-conscious
He would not touch his food till she was gone
Finally she told Dale she had to go
And Dale said,
“Will I see you tomorroW?”
And the woman said, “Yes.”
And many tomorrows later
Dale had an account at a coffee shop
And had been rescued from a ditch
And cleaned up after a winter
Spent in a porta potty
Had been evaluated
Diagnosed with Huntington’s Chorea
Housed but still sleeping with his boots on
And approaching
His journey’s end
And his caregivers
Called him “Sweet Dale”
Earlier in their journey
The woman went
To get him something
And she took much longer
Than she thought she would
When she returned at last
Dale turned to his unhoused friends
And said,
“I TOLD you
She would come back.”
One with Clay, Image and Text 