"Dew"
Awaken and see the dew on the fields!
Gauze veils diamonds with silvery sheen
Allowing mystery to fold its shields
And confirm nature defies being green.
How dare! thunder roars as the wind whines low.
Then sun rises, burning the dew away.
Foolish dew sees no difference, you know
Mid high grass and low, sparse and lush, they say.
Neither thunder can be stolen, nor sun
Stripped of its heat. Wind is allowed to howl.
So must gentle dew toss gems without shun
Offering ambience designed for all.
Extend to each form of nature its due
Or such morning marvels will bid adieu.
From "Lucky"
To hear an excerpt, click on the Harvard Square Editions link on the homepage.)
"You’re too scrawny to be a garbage collector.”
They’d told him at the Waste Control office that he’d soon be getting a new partner named Brenda. He’d worked with Ben for nearly three years—the whole time Eddie had been at Waste Control. But when Ben quit to work at the lumber yard, Eddie hadn’t expected this. The words had just popped out of him like a “Surprise!” at a birthday party. He’d at first felt sorry for saying them, but when he took a closer look at her--her hands (wearing gloves two sizes too big) on her hips, her full lips twisted in a mocking smile, her too-curly dark hair bouncing with each shift of that frame that looked too slight to pick up forty pounds—he decided to forgo the apology, keep his mouth shut.
"Never thought I’d end up bein’ a garbage collector,” she told him, that first day. “How about you?”
“First off,” Eddie told her, “Things aren’t ‘ended up’ yet. Didn’t your mother ever use that phrase, ‘It ain’t over ‘til the fat lady sings’? I haven’t run into any fat lady singers yet—and I bet you haven’t either.” This little lady, it appeared, needed to be educated. And she didn’t need to know his couple of years of taking night classes had turned into a couple more years. "Anyway, I sort of like what I do, and I’ll tell you why.”
Another thing he liked was the way she was looking at him, as if he was King Solomon or something. He'd give it to her straight. “It’s called service. You know, helpin’ people out. It makes me feel good to do that—it’s something I always wanted to do. He pulled the truck out of the terminal, watched her while she watched out the window, noticed her feet didn’t touch the floor. “People generate a whole lot of trash, and they gotta get rid of it. Imagine what the world would look like if we weren’t around. Hell, I was in Philly a few years ago when the garbage collectors went on strike. Damn mess, I tell you."He shook his head,remembering it. “Another thing, too, is this job keeps me in shape.” He took his right arm off the wheel, flexed it, then watched her face. It wasn’t the expression he’d hoped for. “Okay, so I’m no Superman.”
“I didn’t say a word,” she said. “With you runnin’ your mouth since before you even started up the engine, how could I?” Her lips turned up in a slight smile.“You’re not bad—for an old geezer.”
“I’m neither ‘old’ nor a ‘geezer,’ thank you very much.” Eddie enunciated each word.
His new partner’s smile broadened. He thought it was a lovely smile. But of course, Eddie didn’t tell Brenda that. They drove over the Timmons then, toward their collection route.
After Yvonne’s miscarriage, Eddie had taken to carrying a flask of whiskey in the truck. It didn’t matter when he was without a partner, but once Brenda entered the picture, he considered that he ought to just keep it in his back pocket, rather than in the door pocket. But considering and doing are two different things—Eddie was good with the first, not so good with the second. They were in Wedgewood (what he called the“country yuppie” development) and he left the driver’s door open when he got out of the truck to help with some of the trash. It was nearly dark—it was the first pickup day after Christmas—everyone along the route had more bags of garbage, and the weather was miserable. Freezing rain made the bags crusty, crackly. It soaked through their gloves, made their hands raw. The bulging bags were two or three rows deep along the streets.
His only mistake was leaving the door of the garbage truck open. He should have known the woman he now called B (it was like her—short and sweet) would notice it, think she needed to close it, ride him for a while before she did.
“You like getting your ass all wet, Eddie?”she asked when she saw him hurling the last bag of trash. “Shouldn’t be out of the truck, anyway. That’s my job, remember?” She then proceeded to move toward the truck, which he stupidly parked under a street light. The silver of the flask must have caught it.
“Stealing from the trash, eh?” she said, lifting it out of the pocket. “Good find. Good find.”
Things would have been okay if she hadn’t stuck her nose in further—literally. He watched while B screwed off the top of the flask, took a whiff.
“Whew—wee, Eddie,” she said, dumping the contents. “This’ll melt that ice on the ground. You’re lucky I’m the one who found this.” Then she turned to him. “What are you doing, pal? Trying to kill us?”
“Keep out of my business,” he blurted.
“Are you kidding? I’d say having a drunk driving the truck I’m riding in is something I’d better make my business. I got two boys who are expecting me to come home tonight and fix them some supper.”
He couldn’t believe she would bring her kids into this—that she would think he’d ever do anything to screw up a family. “I never drank any of it. Never drank any of it since I’ve been working with you. Believe it not. It’s up to you. But it’s true, I tell you.”
“I could dime you, pal,” B told him. Then a wry smile crackled across her face, seemed to glow like a jack-o-lantern, Eddie thought, in this light. “You better clean yourself up. From now on, you better watch your back.”
“If that’s a threat,” Eddie told her, “You don’t know who you’re messin' with. I’ve taken out guys a whole lot bigger than you.”
“Now, I could take that comment a bunch of different ways,” she said, walking toward him, stopping so the street light shadowed her face. “First off, in case you haven’t noticed, I am not a guy. And you can forget the ‘short’ jokes. I figured out a long time ago just about everybody’s taller than me. You think I care? Last, and not least, I’d never—let me repeat—never—be ‘messin' around’ with the likes of you, Mr. Diffenderfer.”
She was done. She had her hands on her hips again. He moved into the light with her, looked at her face then, tried to figure it out. He was never very good at figuring people out.
“Your trouble, Eddie,” Yvonne told him a while back, “is that you think everybody’s nice and everybody’s good. They’re not,” was her pronouncement. Sure, she was pissed at him when she said it because he was late getting home from work that night. He offered to pick up a washer and dryer for a guy who was new at Waste Control, didn’t know anyone, didn’t have a truck. They agreed to meet at the store at a specific time, but when Eddie got there, the guy was nowhere to be found. Eddie had waited. And waited. So maybe Yvonne was right.
"Users,” she said. “That’s what most people are.”
After all, the next day, the guy didn’t even say he was sorry about not showing up. “I already got it,” was all he said when Eddie asked him about it.
Now, looking at B, Eddie wondered if she was mocking him. Because if she was, he considered, it wasn’t something that he’d put up with. He wondered if she was a ‘user’. It occurred to him at that moment that if she’d been the one who needed to have a washer and dryer hauled, she’d have figured she could load it herself. The street light caught the freezing rain in her dark hair, then, made it sparkle. She was still smiling, but it was a soft smile now, the kind that was on your face when you just finished reading a good book, when you just closed it. This one he could take a chance on, he decided. He could ride the rapids with this one.
“And anyway,” he said, finally. “I know all about watchin' my back. I’ve been doin' it for years.”
B moved up close to him then, looked him right in the eye. “Me, too,” she said.
Awaken and see the dew on the fields!
Gauze veils diamonds with silvery sheen
Allowing mystery to fold its shields
And confirm nature defies being green.
How dare! thunder roars as the wind whines low.
Then sun rises, burning the dew away.
Foolish dew sees no difference, you know
Mid high grass and low, sparse and lush, they say.
Neither thunder can be stolen, nor sun
Stripped of its heat. Wind is allowed to howl.
So must gentle dew toss gems without shun
Offering ambience designed for all.
Extend to each form of nature its due
Or such morning marvels will bid adieu.
From "Lucky"
To hear an excerpt, click on the Harvard Square Editions link on the homepage.)
"You’re too scrawny to be a garbage collector.”
They’d told him at the Waste Control office that he’d soon be getting a new partner named Brenda. He’d worked with Ben for nearly three years—the whole time Eddie had been at Waste Control. But when Ben quit to work at the lumber yard, Eddie hadn’t expected this. The words had just popped out of him like a “Surprise!” at a birthday party. He’d at first felt sorry for saying them, but when he took a closer look at her--her hands (wearing gloves two sizes too big) on her hips, her full lips twisted in a mocking smile, her too-curly dark hair bouncing with each shift of that frame that looked too slight to pick up forty pounds—he decided to forgo the apology, keep his mouth shut.
"Never thought I’d end up bein’ a garbage collector,” she told him, that first day. “How about you?”
“First off,” Eddie told her, “Things aren’t ‘ended up’ yet. Didn’t your mother ever use that phrase, ‘It ain’t over ‘til the fat lady sings’? I haven’t run into any fat lady singers yet—and I bet you haven’t either.” This little lady, it appeared, needed to be educated. And she didn’t need to know his couple of years of taking night classes had turned into a couple more years. "Anyway, I sort of like what I do, and I’ll tell you why.”
Another thing he liked was the way she was looking at him, as if he was King Solomon or something. He'd give it to her straight. “It’s called service. You know, helpin’ people out. It makes me feel good to do that—it’s something I always wanted to do. He pulled the truck out of the terminal, watched her while she watched out the window, noticed her feet didn’t touch the floor. “People generate a whole lot of trash, and they gotta get rid of it. Imagine what the world would look like if we weren’t around. Hell, I was in Philly a few years ago when the garbage collectors went on strike. Damn mess, I tell you."He shook his head,remembering it. “Another thing, too, is this job keeps me in shape.” He took his right arm off the wheel, flexed it, then watched her face. It wasn’t the expression he’d hoped for. “Okay, so I’m no Superman.”
“I didn’t say a word,” she said. “With you runnin’ your mouth since before you even started up the engine, how could I?” Her lips turned up in a slight smile.“You’re not bad—for an old geezer.”
“I’m neither ‘old’ nor a ‘geezer,’ thank you very much.” Eddie enunciated each word.
His new partner’s smile broadened. He thought it was a lovely smile. But of course, Eddie didn’t tell Brenda that. They drove over the Timmons then, toward their collection route.
After Yvonne’s miscarriage, Eddie had taken to carrying a flask of whiskey in the truck. It didn’t matter when he was without a partner, but once Brenda entered the picture, he considered that he ought to just keep it in his back pocket, rather than in the door pocket. But considering and doing are two different things—Eddie was good with the first, not so good with the second. They were in Wedgewood (what he called the“country yuppie” development) and he left the driver’s door open when he got out of the truck to help with some of the trash. It was nearly dark—it was the first pickup day after Christmas—everyone along the route had more bags of garbage, and the weather was miserable. Freezing rain made the bags crusty, crackly. It soaked through their gloves, made their hands raw. The bulging bags were two or three rows deep along the streets.
His only mistake was leaving the door of the garbage truck open. He should have known the woman he now called B (it was like her—short and sweet) would notice it, think she needed to close it, ride him for a while before she did.
“You like getting your ass all wet, Eddie?”she asked when she saw him hurling the last bag of trash. “Shouldn’t be out of the truck, anyway. That’s my job, remember?” She then proceeded to move toward the truck, which he stupidly parked under a street light. The silver of the flask must have caught it.
“Stealing from the trash, eh?” she said, lifting it out of the pocket. “Good find. Good find.”
Things would have been okay if she hadn’t stuck her nose in further—literally. He watched while B screwed off the top of the flask, took a whiff.
“Whew—wee, Eddie,” she said, dumping the contents. “This’ll melt that ice on the ground. You’re lucky I’m the one who found this.” Then she turned to him. “What are you doing, pal? Trying to kill us?”
“Keep out of my business,” he blurted.
“Are you kidding? I’d say having a drunk driving the truck I’m riding in is something I’d better make my business. I got two boys who are expecting me to come home tonight and fix them some supper.”
He couldn’t believe she would bring her kids into this—that she would think he’d ever do anything to screw up a family. “I never drank any of it. Never drank any of it since I’ve been working with you. Believe it not. It’s up to you. But it’s true, I tell you.”
“I could dime you, pal,” B told him. Then a wry smile crackled across her face, seemed to glow like a jack-o-lantern, Eddie thought, in this light. “You better clean yourself up. From now on, you better watch your back.”
“If that’s a threat,” Eddie told her, “You don’t know who you’re messin' with. I’ve taken out guys a whole lot bigger than you.”
“Now, I could take that comment a bunch of different ways,” she said, walking toward him, stopping so the street light shadowed her face. “First off, in case you haven’t noticed, I am not a guy. And you can forget the ‘short’ jokes. I figured out a long time ago just about everybody’s taller than me. You think I care? Last, and not least, I’d never—let me repeat—never—be ‘messin' around’ with the likes of you, Mr. Diffenderfer.”
She was done. She had her hands on her hips again. He moved into the light with her, looked at her face then, tried to figure it out. He was never very good at figuring people out.
“Your trouble, Eddie,” Yvonne told him a while back, “is that you think everybody’s nice and everybody’s good. They’re not,” was her pronouncement. Sure, she was pissed at him when she said it because he was late getting home from work that night. He offered to pick up a washer and dryer for a guy who was new at Waste Control, didn’t know anyone, didn’t have a truck. They agreed to meet at the store at a specific time, but when Eddie got there, the guy was nowhere to be found. Eddie had waited. And waited. So maybe Yvonne was right.
"Users,” she said. “That’s what most people are.”
After all, the next day, the guy didn’t even say he was sorry about not showing up. “I already got it,” was all he said when Eddie asked him about it.
Now, looking at B, Eddie wondered if she was mocking him. Because if she was, he considered, it wasn’t something that he’d put up with. He wondered if she was a ‘user’. It occurred to him at that moment that if she’d been the one who needed to have a washer and dryer hauled, she’d have figured she could load it herself. The street light caught the freezing rain in her dark hair, then, made it sparkle. She was still smiling, but it was a soft smile now, the kind that was on your face when you just finished reading a good book, when you just closed it. This one he could take a chance on, he decided. He could ride the rapids with this one.
“And anyway,” he said, finally. “I know all about watchin' my back. I’ve been doin' it for years.”
B moved up close to him then, looked him right in the eye. “Me, too,” she said.
