chicago you real life gotham city yr goth lights aborb this little glowing caterpillar of an AMTRAK slipping in its own mucus cross the tracks.
chicago yr over-ripe scrapers still being heightened,
yr never-ending whose cock is bigger erector set contests,
glossy steel girders, up n down
up n down, swing the beams
to whatever cotton-candy american conception of heaven you still imagine you got.
chi-town waiting on bi-polar stock-brokers,
pensive, to streak cross yr firefly backdrop, splatter on the concrete off those heights,
waiting for a crash
pensive for the fall-apart part.
you wait pensive yrself
for that man in fishnets, black plastic chest-plate and pointy cape
w/ V-16 cadillac bat-car
to sweep clean the streets of newspapers and scum.
I spent the day in yr cemeteries gloating over the bones of them you crushed.
I stole Emma Goldman's soul today,
if that is, she would've condoned the thought such a thing existed.
we are flung slow
into the way-back-to-st. louis
on this firefly slug
away from yr big-shouldered embrace.
Lemme tell you a secret Chicago
I stole yr night last night too flat out making love to a red headed friend and i ain't giving either of them back i gots to go.