PRIVATE MOMENTS: HOMAGE TO CHICAGO.
october winds lick at my shirt-tails
like a cat eating ice cream;
but the cold only encourages my oblivion,
for it is emptiness that I seek.
dead to the sirens rushing corpses
to their moment of truth,
and limp to the prey of wayward housewives
shivering on shadowy streets,
I desire only to be alone with my private moments
until the romance of despair numbs
my failed ambitions and consumes my pride.
and like all truly self-sufficient men,
I once again return home … alone …
to celebrate the birth