Chicago

2001

The light is long,
here;
(not in hours, but in feet)
penetrating with delicious confusion-
phallic concrete warmth
and the gentle dissection slice of the Chicago wind.

For once,
I do not look to see if I cast a shadow,
but walk in the anonymity of city silence
on snow-bitten sidewalks,
vacillating between giving in and giving up;
	going on.

It is the deconstruction
of my self-destruction
that the ocean could never provide.

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