29 october 2012
Chicago In Dreams
took the 56 bus downtown
to a place once real,
or at least in imagination.
The flat windows and cold steel
that scraped against the winter sky
felt like human parking lots
hanging over the abandoned shoulders
of people running back and forth,
while the homeless sold newspapers
no one cared enough to read.
A city lived only in imaginations
by people without imaginations.
I talked to old friends along a dirty river
about nothing about a reoccurring past,
their names slowly forgotten, names whitewashed
into a tapestry of post-industrial bliss.
I followed an address to my childhood:
an empty void with escaping memories
blowing in the lake effect wind.
And when I awoke
I walked forward... because
there was no where else to go;
tears were not worth the trouble.
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