off the wagon again
drunk on insulation again
behind walls full of cactus
built from nails made from a stiff neck

damn you, mean man
poor boy of mean thoughts
stink of mean eyes
hair mean and long as memory
inside mean as a stripper’s pole
outside mean as a hiding

spit an agenda at your lovers
darken your corners with leftover blood
pour chum in a baptismal font
hope that sharks rise from somewhere down there
grey fins circling around

if mean boy looks in a shrunken mirror
he will not fill it
if mean man breaks it
his luck won’t change

call him out of his fortress
and he disappears