A Derelict A derelict of cheap booze and much unkind time haunts the sidewalk at the local liquor store. He sits by his walker in the sun; huddles under the canopy when it rains, hoping someone will drop some coins in his crumpled old hat – perhaps enough for a beer or two. Inevitably, I’ll walk past him, say hi; hand him a dollar or two. I like to see his wrinkled face light up at the sound of a friendly voice. Funny, isn’t it, how we assume the ones we see as down and out are there but to take the handout? But the simple exchange of love at that not so loving place, fills my heart every time we meet. Go figure! I do not know his name.