Homeless Joe

Lunchtime at UCD.

Joe sits and stares silently,

Seeking solace in slowly-sipped soup.

Encircled by students; heads buried in Macs;

The outsider.

He sinks deeper into anonymity as he wraps his mac around him,

Pulling it tighter; closer;

Cocooned in the warmth of the Arts Block;

Ignored by the throng;

A frosty reception.

Myth and mystery surround him

A double-edged, non-hubristic shield

Protecting him from those who would pursue the truth;

A blunt weapon to fend off intruders;

Prying minds.

Unwashed; ungroomed; unkempt;

The tenacious grubbiness of life in the gutter

So much more terrifying to the coiffed young girls

Than the dangerous spectres that roam the same streets

From an elevated perspective.

And at those dizzy heights

The girls place misplaced trust in soap and scent;

In virtual men, masked by designer cologne.

Manicured hair and macho-grooming win them over

Till they are at risk.

Fingernail dirt disquiets and frights;

And those beauties blanch at Joe’s barbarous beard;

Conformity to cleanliness

Cements safety as inseparable from sanitation;

And so the strange stranger sits.

Undisturbed; unquestioned; unloved;

Yet legend gnaws at our conscience and rumours abound:

Joe saved a girl from being raped on the campus;

Three square meals a day in return for his deed;

Kindness cubed.