The Priest Said To Me by John Doyle

At every crossroads
it's too easy -
 
too easy to say I asked the devil if I could play some blues
in exchange for things
 
I regard as essential - 
a soul, a pair of sneakers, 
 
my wallet
containing the only way I know 
 
to get from places worse than Hell,
worse than one-hit musicians
 
the devil cheated.
I never heard the devil play the blues.
 
It would've been wise to ask him first,
rather than parting with things 
 
we considered essential.
Now, a map however - that might be worth it -
 
but isn't a map just the blues in pictures -
the old water-tower, the rusted railway line 
 
on Saturdays through the forest, sneakers off
while we wade through the river 
 
with the wooden railway bridge
heaven-high above us,
 
knowing what we’ll laugh about at the crossroads -
then stop laughing. When we returned we told everyone 
 
we’d found a body, poked it with a stick.
Even I believed myself

John Doyle became a Mod again in the summer of 2017 to fight off his impending mid-life crisis; whether this has been a success remains to be seen. He has has two collections published to date, A Stirring at Dusk in 2017, and Songs for Boys Called Wendell Gomez in 2018, both on PSKI's Porch.

He is based in Maynooth, County Kildare, Ireland. All he asks is that you leave your guns at the door and tie up your horses before your enter.