"a brawler's summer grin"

"a brawler's summer grin"
written all out of sorts by jake kilroy.

i had a salad and painkillers for dinner,
shirtless with the window open,
in the deep gulfs of my bed,
where i swallowed the breeze whole.
my tongue clicked
and i gave the peach sky a smile so wide
i thought it'd fly away,
up through the trees like a dove,
glittering in sunlight,
awaiting the heavens.

my leg aches like a dying lord's final heartbeats,
as i swung my fists into the meat of men's guts last night
with a dozen other brawlers who came to have a conversation.
there was a little bit of bourbon left to drink,
but we used it for wounds;
sharp words cut our throats,
so thank goodness for medicine.

today, i swam and drank wine with cola,
something the spaniards take down,
and played music and drove fast cars,
only to come home and read politics
and wait for the golden locks of summer
to sweep me away into the hopeful beyond.

now, with a body heavy for rest,
i can taste bright colors on my lips
and feel gravity in the pits of my lungs;
like all good young men
that drink, fight, swim, and love,
my heart keeps as a big, comfortable bed,
unaware of who takes to sleeping in it,
so i strike up a grin every summer
and wait for night to never come again.