Chicago

i return and the city comes with me
gripping my thoughts like the tall cold granite
so prevalent in your construction
the shiny marble dingy with taxi smells
bus raw to the open-armed bosses
their fangs drain me, sidewalk filling my veins with concrete and wholesome fury
we see vangrants littered strewn as tiny
paper dolls ragged looking through trash
as we take candid pictures of new dirt
and her blanket huddled seemingly

she was beautiful

i saw her folded up helpless awaiting death
what can i do? i did nothing
passed by with the air of a high-bird elite
gleaming in my brilliance, i had no money either
why shouldn't i share it? Why?
that plagues me as it should do. The question
does not concern masses, only one

one beautiful shackled girl, fed to misty concrete
and fogged-over urine-filled doorways
hiding from gasping cold until caught by it's hands
why can she not slide by in a turning taxicab
bound for home while i lose myself in
dreams of marble islands floating above the
dirty wrecked and snow-capped masses moving as one.

i wondered why she had not chosen shelter in a doorway.
i wondered why she wanted to be out in the wind's path.
i realize she wanted to die.



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