Prometheus

He walked in drunk
It was a sober man's drunk
A being spirited beyond his spirits
He sat
I regarded
His story began with a bad joke
Then he told me about the goddess he married
Twenty-two (seems like) centuries ago
About the house he built
Framed with his own ribs
Plumbed with the veins of his heart
Heated with their ardor
Adorned with angel's art
Two days ago
She met him at the door
Fire in her eyes
But only embers in her heart
I watched him bide
Then imbibe more tear than beer
As he described the photo album
"Her most precious thing"
His daughter had present-ed to him
So he would not forget
Her freckled nose and her brother's blue eyes
She sensing he would not see them for a while
He imbibed this thought
I listened as the tears were fused
He said he would make them proud
They would know the truth behind the myths
About their father
But for the moment he was stuck
In this rock of a town
Until he could find a chain for his bike
He asked directions to the nearest pool hall
So the bottled eagle could finish destroying his liver
He lit a cigarette
And walked out
Leaving me his book of matches.