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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN#/ISBN# issue/book “a Rose in the Dark” cc&d, v290 (the May/June 2019 26-year anniversary issue) Order this as a 6"x9" paperback book:

Order this writing in the issue book a Revolution of Modern Life the cc&d Jan.-June 2019 issues & chapbooks collection book		get the 400 page Jan.-June 2019 cc&d magazine issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN#035; paperback book:

This City (Chicago)

John Yotko

This city has a smell
As I walk down the streets
With my groceries
I smell a moisture in the air blowing in off the lake
I smell the decay of gardens left in disrepair
On the busy streets
I smell the rush of people
On their way to somewhere
On the busy streets
I smell the diesel fumes
From trucks filled with groceries
As they rumble by
From busses filled with people
On their way to somewhere

As I pass under the el
I smell the ozone from the electric arcs
The acrid smell of hot brakes
As the train clatters overhead
Filled with people
On their way to somewhere

That sound

I do not live here - any more
I was not born here
I am not from here
That sound of the el
The smells
They tell me I am home

I did not know it when I lived here
But i know it is true
This city is my home
It’s winter is cold, black, unforgiving
I must leave
But I want to come back

The city where I live
Is filled with poets, artists and musicians
They look back and opine
For better times that never were
The city where I live is confused
It is being pulled into the future
Faster and faster
It’s people wake up each day
One step behind where they were yesterday
They do not understand the big city

This city though
The city of the big shoulders
It smells of anger
The anger of, “why can’t you keep up?”
The anger of, “why are you in my way?”
This city
This city is rushing headlong into the future
Chopping buildings in half and flattening bridges
This city has ripped off its rear view mirror

There is no need to look back

Except ‘85... ‘85 was a good year

I listened to this city as a child
I did not know it at the time
I did not feel it then
This city is my home
Its winter is cold, black, unforgiving

I want to come back and stay

Maybe next time

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