First Week in Lincoln Park In the city of Chicago, it is extremely difficult to tell the difference between an insane homeless man, limping to a subway station in order to get his 8 hours, (with hourly interruptions to switch trains, and avoid being noticed at the end of the line) and a man, with a liberal concept of personal grooming, who sprained his ankle during his morning jog. They both have generally the same attire, mannerisms, and smell. They also have the same look in their eyes. They both look desperate, and exhausted. They both have a goal to achieve, but something insurmountable is standing in their way. The look on both of their fa
12.Jan.10Leaving the bus stop, alone at twilight, I want to wave farewell to the backs of the strangers heading home. A failed date today, a rumbling muffler chokes - white breath, a young couple hurries past to catch the night train.I commiserate with my cell phone's inbox; (three new messages, all junk) and watch a mother pull two children from the faces they are drawing on a parked car's windshield. Warm fingers leave behind two jaunty smiles in the frost. On the sidewalk stretching home, a sweet smell drifts from far away, and a man stubs out his cigarette, stone cold in an instant.words clutter fogged panesa passing sleeve erases
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