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The Ballad of Joe Bell |
Does the world seem like a cruel cold place?
Do you feel you'd like to hide your face
Behind a mask?
Does God hate you? And if that's true,
Do you wonder why he created you?
And may I ask:
Do people whom you once held dear
Now look away when you come near,
And nothing's said?
Does everybody want to see
You swinging from a gallow tree
Until you're dead?
Whenever your dad hears you're around
Does he cringe, spit mucus on the ground,
And divert his eyes?
Does your mom talk weather, and when she's done
Does she hug you and say you're still her son
As she cries?
Did the sheriff slam your bedroom door,
Pull you from bed—you're on the floor,
Hands cuffed behind?
All this because of who you are?
They're after us! They're so bizarre
And so unkind.
Behind steel bars there's only time,
So grab a chair, sit back, while I'm
Telling a tale.
The tale of how I came to be
Convicted of a felony
And thrown in jail.
Sweet Georgia in the hot South sun,
Where you say hello to everyone
As the Hooch flows.
Atlantic City, Savanna Beach,
Piping hot grits, an ice cold peach
Where the cotton blows.
My name's Joe Bell. When I was ten
I began to look at older men,
And this scared me.
And on my block was a girl named Jess,
And for just two bucks she'd lift her dress
And let you see.
I was ten; I stole my old man's twenty.
She laughed and said, "I'll give you plenty.
More than a peek."
She took me to a broken shed.
We lay down in a broken bed.
My knees got weak.
She kissed my face, she kissed my lips,
My inner thighs, my chest, my hips
Again and again.
"It's not supposed to stay this size!"
She said. I closed my tearful eyes
And thought of men.
So no one knew till age fourteen
When John Smith found a magazine
Under my bed.
"I'll never tell on you," he swore.
"You're queer. You ain't no friend no more,
To me you're dead !"
Sometimes some friends would want to know
Why is it I don't ever go
Out on a date.
I'd tell them I was very shy-
One day the right girl will come by-
I'll have to wait.
I had a teacher at age sixteen.
Girls said he looked just like James Dean,
But he was cuter.
Tenth grade English, my grades were high-
It surprised me when he asked if I
Needed a tutor.
While walking to his house that night,
There was tense fear, immense delight.
I couldn't wait.
My knees were weak, my heart was pounding.
I thought I'd puke while I was rounding
His front yard gate.
Before I knocked on his front door,
He opened it and stood before
Me with a smile.
"How are you Joe?" He said. "Come in.
I'm glad you came. Soon we'll begin.
Let's talk awhile."
He caressed the couch, said, "Sit by me."
And as I sat he brushed my knee
With his left hand.
Then as his right hand brushed my cheek,
He said, "Tell me a secret, speak.
I'll understand."
I broke into tears and told him how
I never told a soul till now
That I liked guys.
And as I spoke he took my hand,
Said, "It's all right, I understand."
He wiped my eyes.
At seventeen, I took a trip
To Atlanta where the bars are hip,
And the men are gay.
I met a man. His name was Mike,
Said, "Sleep at my place if you'd like."
I said, "Okay."
I'd see Mike weekends. Mom demanding,
"Stay home!" But Dad so understanding,
"Leave him alone.
When I was his age I had two."
"If he knocks her up what will we do?"
My mom would moan.
Late one night, the stars were out.
Mike's hand in mine, I heard a shout.
I turned my head.
A swinging bat, a blinding light,
We fell down hard, and all that night
We bled and bled.
At twenty I was a bartender
When Fred walked in, a real big spender,
An older man.
Drinking scotch and leaving tips,
And watching me while taking sips.
Gray hair, dark tan.
A banker for the Midland bank,
As he left the bar my stomach sank,
But he returned.
He said he'd stop by Saturday.
He shook my hand and walked away,
And my hand burned.
Saturday night, a dim lamplight,
My bedposts shook with my delight,
My room was spinning,
My apartment-a crashing, storm-crazed sea.
"Was it good for you?" I asked, while he
Just laid there grinning.
"WELL, WHAT'S WITH FRED?" my dad would yell,
"YOU BETTER ANSWER ME, JOE BELL!
THAT MUCH YOU OWE!
YOU'RE TURNING ME INTO A GOD DAMNED NUT!
OPEN YOUR MOUTH AND TELL ME WHAT
I already know."
A beer can in a paper bag.
Bright sun beats on a thirsty fag.
A policeman saw
Me outside with the open beer,
Said, "Son, you can't be drinking here.
It's against the law."
He read my license, smiled real wide,
Said, "Here's your ticket. Drink inside.
Have a nice day."
When I got home I looked at Fred.
I threw the ticket on the bed,
Yelled, "I won't pay."
Two months. My party, Friday at eight.
"Fred," I said softly. "I can't wait.
Time we departed."
Slipped past the guests, slipped to my room,
We closed the door, and I assume
That's when it started.
He either rang the bell or knocked.
Sue heard, put down her drink, unlocked
The door. "Oh dear,"
She gasped. "Is something wrong?"
"Yes ma'am," he said. "I don't have long.
Is Joe Bell here?"
Gray uniform, white cowboy hat,
He was huge and strong, his stomach fat
From drinking booze.
A Sheriff's badge pinned on his chest,
An official warrant for my arrest,
And steel-tipped shoes.
"I need to take him in today.
There's a ticket that he didn't pay.
So where is he?"
She pointed to my room and said,
"I think they're in there, him and Fred,
But I think they're busy."
He cracked the door and peeked inside;
He saw, then slammed it open wide.
Pulled me from bed.
I hit the wood floor painfully.
He cuffed my hands in back of me
Then went for Fred.
Friends, straight and queer, sat row by row.
Mom wasn't there 'cause Dad said, "No!"
The judge looked grim:
Black-robed red eyes stared hatefully.
And the prosecutor winked at me
When I looked at him.
The judge said, "Jury, before we start,
Please use the law and not your heart.
Let's get this straight-
Fellatio is sodomy,
And sodomy's a felony
In this here state."
The prosecutor began to cite
Bowers v Hardwick, where Justice White
And the Supreme Court,
After a vote of five to four,
Said privacy doesn't exist anymore.
My trial was short.
Bowers v Hardwick, a case like mine-
It's still the state's right to define
What's moral, what's not.
A fascist state where they hate queers
And can lock us up for twenty years
To rot and rot.
Inside this cell I curse my fate.
They say I'm an enemy of the state,
And now I feel
Their hatred pounding through my blood.
I'd kill them all now, if I could
Break bars of steel!
Does the world seem like a cruel cold place?
Do you feel you'd like to hide your face
Behind a mask?
Does God hate you? And if that's true
Do you wonder why he created you?
Just thought I'd ask.
copyright 2004
Joseph
Camhi |
