Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Poem: Chicago


Wrote this years ago, and just rediscovered it. Merry Christmas.

Part One
The bodies bump and tussle in the night
Slick with youth's yawning focused poet's love
Sharp like a fresh wound that time will soon heal
The non-voyeur buries his skull in deep sand
Searching for an answer quick and easy
Midnight is long past, yet day is remembered
The orange sky autumn's lovely tragedy
Halloween christening my child's heart
Romancing in the mind and lonely hand
Beset by meager slivers of souls
Sweet of breast and soft of throat but doe-eyed
Why should a beggar get to choose?
Who has crowned him king and judge?
Righteous and worthy are we in our eyes
Never afraid of bustling crowds
Never lacking in charisma or character
Never cloaked in silhouette and subway grime
Never making dangerous eyes out of steamy windows
Never shying from the mutant glow of the street lights
But always passing hours in derelict hideaways
Always lingering at blue notes ripe with jazz
Always pushing past the mangy harlequins on Addison
Always leaning in a corner with no way out

Part Two
Yet hope was handed to me by trembling strings
Stretched out across waving amber expanses
I shook slender hand and bid her come
Well-met we were at Navy Pier
Walking shoulder to shoulder along the Rhineland
Fertile with jagged glass and cigarette butts
Smiled we did at life's eccentricities
I played the gentle heart's part with abandon
Watery-eyed and mistletoed, murmuring and glancing
Beholding waifs with windy worried expressions
Kissed by a bubbling insatiate thirst
The city noise was a chorus song sung sweet
Beneath the citadels gothic and zebra-striped
I left the smoldering wreck of my foundation
Retreated I did to sit at Ignatius' noble feet
Long-thought solitude bestowed upon me once more
There I sowed a saccharine construction
When snow began to fall, I went for the El train
My hands were cupped as we passed the boneyard
Strewn with dilapidated hulks ravaged and decimated
So soon would there be light
When Helios warmed my reptile blood
My choice had been made

Part Three
The train station looms ahead, vast and empty
Electric blues spark, cackle, and move ahead
Yet one remains entrenched in murky recesses
Staring downward at a sticky concrete floor:
A vaudeville theater and a gout-stricken man
An angular oddball with a penchant for polish sausage
Two Russians with bulbous eyes and a lisping delivery
They speak of European girls and communist fatalities
Ivy-grown stone under neighborhood villas
The crack of Kentucky wood hammering a homerun
Crowds draining from the coliseum and into the bar-filled streets
Stacked with memorabilia of beloved losers
That time in Chinatown, searching for the golden pig
Finding plastic toys and foreign language comic books
Paying for over-priced, salted-down chow mein.
He rode the El downtown in the twilight
Red lines streaking past tenement houses cold and drafty
Mexicans living Spanish in front of the whole wide world
Water lapping against the lonesome pier, beneath the moon
Jogging between suits and spiked-hair and bums
Fat, fetid, and filthy, eating trash, pillaging cans
Under the bridge beneath the Tower of Babel, a deserted night-town
This was my playground and I shall miss it.  

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