Wednesday, December 07, 2005

I lived in an apartment
shaken daily by the el train
There's a blue cloud over the lake over
the whole city.
The fog rolls off just like Sandburg described.
The cathedral stands tall against bleak
the pizzerias number nine on one block
the graffiti changes each year.

There is only the sound of the train
on the tracks, the rattle of old doorframes
Years and years of history.

walk down to Navy Pier and watch
the tourists glaring at Oprah's penthouse
watch the tugboats hooting to each
other over the water, screaming like
the gulls.

The Chicago of my parents sounded of
blues, jazz, riots, sadness, dogs barking,
men falling.
The Chicago of my childhood is filled
with sunlight, zoo walks and the timidity
of first steps.

And now, there is a rough beat
pushing us forward through these urban
streets, no longer mine, someone else's.
thump throughout the foundations
of cities, moving like stampedes,
angry, fighting, possibly praying.
We can't even see each other anymore.

Chicago of my dreams, you filter
through to me in this rainy Georgia suburb.
I miss the truth of cities, dirty old cities.
I miss the exact nature of humans
dwelling too close, living every minute
in the beat and shaking of elevated tracks.

the honesty of the streets
is the juxtaposition of where I sit.
But I know where I come from.
And we come from dirty streets of smoke
and graffitti and blended skins
and hope, and life, and something
bigger than either one of us.

Let's go back, baby.
Let's go home, baby.

Ah. We're gonna ride that train together.
Written by FRITZ
| Link | 2 wise cracks! |

Name: Fritz

Location: Detroit Rock City!
Where the weak are killed and eaten

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    What I Live By:
    We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. Through the unknown, unremembered gate When the last of earth left to discover Is that which was the beginning; At the source of the longest river The voice of the hidden waterfall And the children in the apple-tree Not known, because not looked for But heard, half-heard, in the stillness Between two waves of the sea. Quick now, here, now, always— A condition of complete simplicity (Costing not less than everything) And all shall be well and All manner of thing shall be well When the tongues of flame are in-folded Into the crowned knot of fire And the fire and the rose are one. -T.S. Eliot "Little Gidding"

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