He was a thimble of a man
He came into our bar daily
We lived in Hegins, Pennsylvania
He spoke but wasn’t understood
Pennsylvania Dutch, like a foreign language
He was suspect
Odd in every flavor
A smarmy fellow
Shaved head
Hunter’s cap
White T-shirt
They called him Little Head
He sat at the bar unaccompanied
Then played cards with my grandmother, Euchre
They relished this past time
I watched but had no interest
He drank shots as she delt
They smoked in tandem
I never liked him
I found nothing redeeming in him
We took him home one night
His house fell in on itself
He knew little, he had little
He found companionship with my grandmother
She gave him something no one else had, a chance