Sometimes a Poem walks into a bar.

I met a old dude named William Josep tonight, and this is a quick poem about him. Enjoy!


#???-William Joseph.

A poem walked into a bar

It’s name was William Joeseph

and it was 56 years old,

“One year older than when Sammy Hagar couldn’t drive” he said.

A self proclaimed “old geezer”.

Man was an artist and a squatter

and I had just met him,

but I had a quickly developed a respect for him.

I asked him if he traveled around

and he told me he wasn’t mobile

“Shit” he said “I’ll squat in one place for 5, even 10 years. At my place right now I’ve got a garden, bird feeders everywhere, flowers growing, a fire to incinerate trash so bears don’t come…”

He went on to tell me that his place now was out by the Kim Williams trail

“Right after the 3 mike marker, there’s a trail that goes off to the left, and shortly after that, before the 4 mike marker, you follow that trail and you’ll come across my bike. That’s where I’m at.”

He told me I could come down and visit some time

He said the gate charge is a 6 pack of beer.

I discovered all of this over several games of pool,

and that’s another thing,

man was a great pool player.

I came close to beating him in one of our games, but I fell short.

He made his living selling his artwork and betting on pool games, and I felt obliged to buy one. I purchased a drawing of the old native from the George Clooney movie. “Look in his eyes, you can just see him thinking” he said about the drawing.

Some people wouldn’t of cared to talk to William Joseph,

but sometimes a poem walks into a bar,

and you’ve got no choice but to figure out

how to write it.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s