"reading a northwestern passage"

"reading a northwest passage"
when considering a million things by jake kilroy.

i remember the copy of east of eden that dried out at the beach house,
torn by the wind, scratchy to the touch, a perfect token of the past.
it was northwest by heart attack blues, up the throat, out the mouth,
and i read a passage from the classic while the surf got up sleepy.
but there was nothing to do but drugs and dwell on your desires,
set against a quiet forest road that lead us here one friday night.
i spent two sunsets at the local dive bar listening to classic rock,
hating my beers while loving the prices, and gutlessly praying,
this time for a lack of irony when i penned napkin poetry.
but i was happy, and there was hardly anything to say.