Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Miss Pearl's Chicago



Chicago sleeps on Sunday
Gaped mouth and ugly,
Saliva dribbles on the clean white concrete.
Breath reeks fishy with dead semen.
Chicago sleeps on Sunday.

The city goes to work on Monday
Grumpy and long faced it greets gray time clocks.
Giant yellow caterpillars dig into earth.
Clicking typewriters write Bullshit
In sixty-nine languages.
The city goes to work on Monday.

Chicago grooves on Tuesday.
Alert after two days of black coffee,
It makes conversation. Everyone
Has taped the "Dancing Siamese Twins" on Geraldo.
This diversion makes the city laugh sweetly and
Chicago grooves on Tuesday.

The city humps on Wednesday.
The clicking typewriters thump out contracts.
Fat Polish bosses sign them in blue ink.
The caterpillars chew out a hole large
Enough to bury two pyramids and a Sears Tower.
The grocery stores announce
"Hams--ten cents a pound"
'Cause cholera is killing
South American hogs and Strongmen.
The city shrugs its shoulders.

Thursday blows in from Lake Michigan.
State Street prisoners are anxious.
Got one more day to go,
One more contract to chew.
It rains at noon.
The city has just busted a blood vessel.
There are hog guts all over the Loop.
Miss Pearl, head of Data Entry
Has just caught Chicago's third error.
She yells, "There's a tub of
Cow shit difference between 100
And 1000--Do you want the market to crash,
The world to end, to lose your job?"
"Hell yes," the City screams.
It goes home and beats its wife.
Blows echo like jack hammers.

Chicago is a perky as a young breeze on Friday.
The eagle has flown.
Miss Pearl gets a sweet kiss from
one of her blond “girls.”
Wives recovering from Thursdays are
Invited to lunch. Blood roses
Match swollen cheeks. Promises are made
To buy "Beloved" a tiger coat.
On Friday Night, love is naked,
Bellies glide together.
The city makes its babies.

Chicago sleeps late on Saturday,
Yawns, fondles its privates,
Goes to breakfast at 11 a.m.,
Remembers ham is ten cents a pound,
Vomits, goes to the cleaners,
Retrieves  the shiny night clothes of
Red satin and brass buttons.

Saturday night, State Street bathes in blood.
Liquor flows down hot bellies,
Miss Pearl's mouth earns her a toe tag,
Brains dissolve on sidewalks.
Rage rains in the city's heart.
Blood fills lonesome stockyards.
A barking dog causes a riot.
"Niggers" in Cicero incite Armageddon.
Skins are tender and heads thick,
Sirens wail and cry like mourners.

Chicago buries Miss Pearl on Sunday
 On top of old hog carcasses.

Note: A poem I wrote long ago inspired by my Grandmother Pearl Wasson

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