Nobody (Odysseus)

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
You told the Cyclops
your name was Nobody —
Outis —
and when the Cyclops screamed
Nobody is killing me
the other monsters
went back to sleep
and the trick
worked perfectly
and the trick
was also the thesis
of the next ten years:
you were Nobody,
you had made yourself
Nobody,
and the sea
took you at your word
and treated you
with the hospitality
the Greeks reserve
for men
who have removed
their own names
and are surprised
when the removal
has consequences

[Verse 2]
Penelope waited twenty years
which is either devotion
or the most structured
form of fury
ever expressed
through textile —
she wove the shroud by day
and unwove it at night
and the weaving
was not patience
it was strategy:
the same strategy
you practiced
on a different ocean
with a different loom
She was the other Odysseus —
the one who stayed
and fought the war
at the dining table
where the weapons
were a needle
and the willingness
to undo
every day's work
every night
which takes more courage
than the sword
because the sword
only has to commit
once

[Chorus]
The Broca's region
that selected the lie
was the same region
that selected every lie
that saved you:
I am Nobody,
I am a merchant,
I am a beggar,
I am your husband
returning after twenty years
with the face
of a man
the hippocampus
has to work to recognize
because the man
who left
and the man
who arrived
shared a name
but not a biography
and the biography
is the part
the face carries
whether the mouth
has authorized it
or not

[Verse 3]
The Sirens sang
and you had yourself
tied to the mast
which is the only honest thing
you did
in twelve books:
you admitted
that the body
would betray the mission
and you restrained it
in advance —
not because
you were disciplined
but because
you understood
that discipline
is what you install
when you know
you cannot be trusted
You heard the song
and survived
which makes you
the only person
in the mythology
who got both:
the knowledge
and the rope
and the next morning

[Outro]
You arrived home
disguised
as someone who was not you
and the dog recognized you —
Argos,
twenty years old,
lying on a dung heap,
too weak to stand,
and the recognition
smelled like old fur
and the warm salt
of an animal
that had been waiting
in the specific location
where you left
and had not moved
because dogs
do not have
the prefrontal architecture
required to do
what you spent ten years doing:
pretending to be
someone else
Argos wagged his tail
and died
and the death
was the only greeting
honest enough
to welcome home
a man
who had named himself
Nobody
and spent a decade
proving it