I felt your sarcasm in Cook County. Into this world, I land on the ceiling. Born in the heights of Arlington and raised in the culture of Wheeling. Discovered and connected, forever part of this Midwest city. Chicago, baby: my drug, my love affair. Redesigned and resurrected, a whole new man with none of the pity, singing like Kelly and dancing like Astaire. I guess I will take the haunted train to the end of its cobwebbed tracks. If the need should arise, we can look deep into vintage Waukegan candle wax. You can join me in the North. You can lose me in its overhead underground source. I felt your arrogance near Northwestern. Into this land, I am permanently tossed. Rejuvenated in the luxury of Skokie, your eyes are the only two lights that I have lost. Created and eradicated, forever part of this Midwest town. Chicago, querida: my mistress, my holy fix. Frozen and incinerated, I have been given the molten unrighteous crown: Lucky Number Eight and Flipside Six-Six-Six. I guess I will take the possession bus to the very last stop. If the occasion should arise, I will climb the plateau to the top. You can join me in the North. You can lose me in its overhead underground source. And you can kiss my voice in the North.
You're so welcome!



Comment early, comment often, keep it civil: