Poems Off The Streets

by G.T.

Cermak

In the past
I tried to
blend, but this
time around
I felt the
city
reject
me,
offering
me only
pale bricks,
busted windows
and
puddle splashes
on
Cermak’s Curb.

Pulaski

At Exit Two-
Eighty-Seven
which leads onto
Pulaski Road,
be careful not
to confuse the
smokestacks with the
Sears Tower when
driving in the
fog. Or should I
correct myself?
Willis Tower?
As much as the
present frightens
me with both it’s
banality
and failure to
expose what lies
before me at
midnight, change can
disenchant a
man all the same.
So I look at
tomorrow with
bold, bright eyes that
mistaken weeds
in abandoned lots
for narrow lawns
and generic
cereal as
my favorite
childhood brand
when I try and
recapture my
long lost past in
a bowl of milk
thinking how I
never wanted
a narrow lawn
in the first place,
but rather a
penthouse up high
in The Willis
Tower, but stopped
the moment I
saw the smokestacks
when driving in
the fog.