First, a little history about Mike.

Mike and I talked for about an hour while he ate his dinner of a single hamburger and refusing an offer from me to buy him a drink. He is very independent and accepts no handouts from any one. He just lives off the money he gets from selling what he can find along the roadside.

I guess you could say it was fate that we met. For about 5 years I saw him pulling a wagon along the road side picking up aluminum cans, but I never really gave him a second thought. It was probably because I assumed he lived in a house somewhere close by. How wrong I was!

Mike is homeless and 48 with a long beard and hair his face very weathered. He wears an old Army Jacket to keep him warm. His parents have long passed his brother and sister has disowned him and was married for a short time. He lives in a dome tent covered with plastic to keep out the rain. His home is located off an old dirt road kind of hidden back in the woods.

Now when I see him walking along the side of the road I honk and we wave. When we get a bag full of cans I leave them anonymously along the side of the road for him.

DINNER MEETING

For five years I saw him
Never knowing his name
Nor where he lived
How many miles a day
No matter the weather
A green wagon he always pulled
Sometimes empty.
Sometimes full.

Then by fate we met
A table for two
He sat alone
A 99 cent burger
For dinner is all he had

I stopped for a moment
Then offered my hand
"My names Ed and yours?"
For an hour about we talked
Homeless he is
In a dome tent he lives
Off an old dirt road
Deep into the woods

Strangers we are no more
Now when I drive by
I honk and we wave
His name.
Mike E. Hottinger
The Tin Can Man

©Copyright January 17, 2003 by Edgar A. Tieman

LAST DINNER

Table set for two and candles lit
With an unsteady hand
Soft music that filled the room
Was not heard
Lights turned down low
Solemn quiet deep within
Is filled with tears
There lives now upside down
Will this be their last?

This dinner not like others before
Filled with joy and happiness
Now only thinking of themselves
For in the morning he will leave
To somewhere over there
Dressed in his camouflage
Her head buried against his chest
To hide the tears she now sheds
Deep sobs filled her now
For tonight she knows
Tomorrow he will be over there

©Copyright January 24, 2003 by Edgar A. Tieman

Submitted for the January 2003 IWVPA Club Theme Project, Dinner Tables