The Fixer

I met this strange  man who said that he was a 'fixer,'
I said: 'What's that - a carpenter or a mortgage broker?'
He said: 'No, I resolve any problems which come along,'
'Oh, a therapist,' 'No, I give you 'right,' instead of wrong.'

I gave up - must be a nuttah, can't tell Stork from  butter,
I felt admonished, if only I had words that I could utter;
however, something made me suspicious, one kind,
for some reason, there seemed to be avenues I could find.

Thought nothing of it, perhaps it must have been the beer,
we'd all like to be given some 'right,' end up in the clear;
but I didn't really believe in all of this holy spiritual stuff,
when I went to church, I often felt I'd just had enough.

After a while he'd removed his sandals, because of the heat,
then I saw the marks where the holes had been in his feet.