A cold fog rolled over Montrose Beach this evening. Winter’s chill clings to Chicago’s shoreline like stink to an old sock. Sunbathers stare gloomily at the splashing waves that wash over their warm hopes with radical indifference. Miles Davis –…
Category: Thoughts Out Of Season
Headphone Jazz…
I spent the day wandering the naked streets looking for sunbeams and golden fountains. I came across old Black men sleeping in Grant’s park on unfriendly benches, as snot-nosed children ran circles around an empty mud puddle. Musical maniacs munched…
Tattooed Teardrops
Tattooed teardrops line the sterilized institutional halls for the morning call – hot flesh delivered live from the cold hard streets of steel keeps the iron ball rolling, the silver bell tolling, and the lead still flowing. There is no…
Between these two…
Between these two… There’s a homeless man living under lower Wacker Drive just off the walking path that follows the river. During the day, while the inhabitant is out foraging, I often stroll past his little patch of concrete that…
American Schmuck
He’s an American schmuck, don’t even know what hit him. Cancer stick dangles from the bobbling head of the neck-tied bandit trading commodities on the floor of the exchange. He’s banking on America, making swaps on his futures, running out…