A semi-political/quasi-spiritual/pseudo-beat, ode to humanity written on the L-train. |
This city is immortalized in its gray our culture personified by shades of red and black mixed on the palette of half a million struggling, starving artists crossing from car to car in the high voltage steel of the Chicago Transit Authority This skyline cuts across the mirrored blue with a vengeance that terrifies the public eye We're mollified by the trim trained voice coursing through this vein, "If you see any suspicious activity" I am suspicious of all activity. Now the life-blood of this population floats through the brown, gray, scuffed corridors he bears the wounds on his hands and feet, bleeding, preaching, "This is all I have. I need Nickels and Dimes, nickels and dimes. This is all I have, Change please Change I haven't eaten in three days" Drink from me. Don't be thirsty. I am the only one in our car who partakes As my mother watches, unamazed, I drink from his blood, put my fingers on his hands, feel the wounds for myself, I believe in resurrection. On the third day, all the light in this city will go out On the third day, they'll all be in emergency, they'll all cross from car to car and beg for life, On the third day, this city will stand up, and they'll all be Christ, they'll all bleed. And I will watch, unamazed As my children drink and thirst no more. |