"the well of man"

"the well of man"
written in a black shirt by jake kilroy.

i had two hot air balloons in my cavern of a chest
trying to find their way out through the gutter chambers
of my heart, or the long winding tower of my neck.
what holiday was this that celebrated wrong turns
like it was the right way to break everything about?
i huffed the vapors of soup and had brandy for dinner
and still i wandered the graves, stalking the earth,
like a monster hunting zombies waiting for demons,
all for a card game that would be rigged from the start.
lights were aglow in the swinging lanterns of the porches,
and i marched with ice for blood and a crooked smile
that could bury winter for good here in the soft, idle dirt,
bring summer back, drag it crying from a vacation home,
and put it to work, all with cigar smoke polluting my mind
and the comfort of a thick peacoat hailing nirvana
from a park bench in the middle of hell,
all while the Devil himself played golf.