Wednesday, March 7, 2012

"chicago in november"

"chicago in november"
written (a)musingly by jake kilroy.

the worthless american godspell,
sinking into your seat
at a play you wanted to see,
but the drugs are too much
and the lights are too much
and the audience is too much,
so you slip out for a drink in the lobby,
sipping on gin you kept in a flask
because you thought it would be like soda
instead of the whiskey you had in the car.

this is the city of dim lights,
where the shadows roll dice in the alley
and you strain your eyes to see nothing,
brilliantly covered by a sputtering cough
that you call "youth in turmoil,"
until you ride the train home
and fail to notice all the gold
and silver and ruby red lights
that sparkle with emerald green words
against a white that looks stolen from heaven.

what a grave to make, so close to the suburbs,
watching over chicago's cemeteries,
clawed in grass, wasted in snow,
dazzlingly wretched in a winter
you've come to adore,
even when you sleep well in a basement,
praying to dead gods for summer.

so you missed the final act
and can't remember how you got home,
but you can sing the words you hummed to yourself
when you washed out your throat
with something you couldn't taste
before going to bed without a single thought
other than, "my god, what a glorious change love would be."

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