Joe Said

 

I met him in a small pub. He had the busiest irises I've seen.
He traveled around all the time; was staying in the landlord's B'n'B
above the pub, and most nights he'd play his guitar and sing.
Landlord didn't mind, in fact, quite the opposite. The man was gold.
People were coming from everywhere to hear him,
but the guitar was homemade, and the lyrics were weird, man;
never rhymed. I remember a chorus that everyone seemed to know:


          The sheep have no names in the dark
          You can't have a home with no name
          You can't have a home with no name
          So I'll name the sheep that are knockin' tonight


I'm sure half the people in the pub had never heard the song
but sang along like they had. We got drinking and talking.
His name was Joe, and we got wrecked quickly --
even when his legs could hardly carry him
he could still flick a cigarette into his mouth and light it,
and not his beard. He told me he was Jesus, and he told me this
with his eyes as fierce as a last-man-alive's --
I couldn't even laugh. All I could say, was that his complexion
seemed a little paler than expected.

We left the pub, and he coaxed me to the brothel down the road.
I told him I've a woman at home. He told me,
that love is only ever an excuse and never a reason, and just because
it exists, doesn't mean it's real. He said, ideas like love
and fear can steal a person's soul. Whores are an honest con.
Said what scares him the most, is the absolute opposite of aloneness.

After forty-five minutes of waiting, and ignoring women,
Joe came down the stairs with a satisfied grin.
Told him he took a while; laughed and told me she took a while,
that he only ever puts his head between their legs.
He then started singing about souls in holes, and if we knew,
these women would be gold. Sang we're just empty suitcases.

Stayed away from that pub after that. People like Joe
always seem to cause conflict; probably the reason
he moves around. For three weeks after that night
I spent much of my time with my head
between my woman's legs. I found nothing.
Either she was soulless, or Joe was as crazy as he appeared.
She loved me for it, nonetheless.