"Joliet," she says, "Is the darkest part of a man"   It's angry and slick into her letters writes   Through herself each time, she thinks of him   Trips her way down south into mystery's mouth   And he follows her there it's what she doesn't say   That makes you want to stay and try to comfort her      I talked to the cousins of people who knew you   I asked them the questions they expected to hear   Like maybe a killing went down in your town   Maybe it's the prison or the birth of barbed wire      "Joliet," she says, "Is the darkest part of a man"   It's shaped like liberty's bell, cracked and common law   And stretched out over its flaws like an ink-less well   The hanging judge in town records her comments down   She saves the crowd the truth and deals with it herself   Fills that hollow well with nothing left to prove      I talked to mountains and streams that pushed through there   I talked to the trees that had no fruit to bear   To the colorless people that sat there   Beneath her curled up, stared      I talked to the cousins of people who knew you   I asked them the questions they expected to hear   Like maybe a killing went down in your town   Maybe it's the prison or the birth of barbed wire      Joliet