Chicago Slums

 

The sun falls out of sight

leaving in its wake a lingering red

which paints February trees and

rotting 20’s era bungalows

against the horizon.

Muffled fighting

and fucking creep out

poorly sealed windows

skirting amongst frozen swimming pools

and littered lawns before finally

being overcome by 747’s flying low overhead

in final descents.

 

Many passengers sit

with faces stuck to the windows

thanking God for four-year degrees

and general well-being. Others

impatiently watch the seatbelt sign while

slapping cell phones open, closed and open again

anxious to turn them back on

cursing a moment’s discomfort.

 

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