Joe Shmoe & Jayne Doe

Joseph Danoski

Just another John Doe; actually, Joe Shmoe,

According to the tag hanging from his toe.

Right place at the wrong time, or wrong place right;

Chalk line on the sidewalk one crime-scene night.

He’s lying beside a looker, name: Jayne Doe;

At least that’s what the tag says on her toe.

The coroners flip coins, but still can’t decide

If she’s a ‘silk stalking’ or suicide.

He remembers her from the days of his life;

Thought that someday she’d be a perfect wife.

The girl he worked with at the high school lab;

They went to lunch once, and he paid the tab.

Indeed she would have made a perfect wife;

Lying quietly beneath the surgeon’s knife.

The mortician gives perfect tints to her skin;

Joe is looking sad in the skin he’s in.

Years later in the city, they shared a cab;

The girl he worked with in chemistry lab.

His life had been drab, and hers had been fab;

Again they parted ways, he paid the tab.

The last time that he saw her was in rehab;

He hadn‘t seen her since they shared the cab.

Life gives us chances,

But three strikes, you’re out;

And that’s what this poignant song is about.

They each rest comfortably in their body bag;

His life was a bitch, her demise a drag.

But even in death their lives seem to entwine,

For one last time at the end of the line.

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