my endless bedrooms, my kingdom of sun-soaked front porches, my tree-lined streets from which spiders would drop and whose arms would taunt me, my summer afternoons on your beaches anonymous and alone, my first actual heartbreak, my first rebuilding, my overwhelming, my existential crises on your el train platforms, my shameless weeping in your midnight playgrounds, my oceans’ worth of nightswimming, mountains of sand, my blood’s history, my calloused hands, my arthritis, my smoker’s cough and my whiskey liver, the bracelet on my wrist, the cracks in my bones, the banjo string around my ankle, my crowds, my empty highways, my adoring, my wonder, my wander, my allegiance and terrible disappointment, my education, my flat vowels, my cursing, my plagiarism, my stages, my applause, my trembling, my dancing on rooftops, my screaming laughter in the closed-off streets, my alcoholism and the man I was supposed to marry, my first best and last kiss in the rain, how I love the snow, my “Paris and Rome”, my psychobilly, my silver, my steel, my precision, my mud, my crooked avenues, my felonies, my best friend and the soul mate I will never see again, Chicago Chicago Chicago Chicago Chicago Chicago Chicago, keeper of my secrets, cartographer of my veins, father of my breath. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Goodbye.


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