Chicago

Jan. 7, 2013

Chicago

Gettin' stoned
     with the wind,
Tucked away in a west side backyard,
     Listening to echoes
          roaring off the El.
The cold air lights me up,
     roses my cheeks.
Coffee tastes better,
     thick stuff that sticks,
And sidewalks
     make you walk them.

You've got to want to walk them.

The city asks one thing,
     Respect.
It's not here for you,
     You're here for it,
         pumping Leviathan's blood,
And in exchange
     she cradles you in concrete arms,
Rocking you to sleep
     to the old urban lullaby
          of bus stops and sirens.