walk today. morning is calling you out.
beggars.
gangs.
life.
streets.
a home- a development.
fences stand, welcoming nothing.
their rod-iron existance feels strength,
but does not know itself.

rocks embedded, streets cracked.
lives uplifted from here,
deaths arent occasion,
death is constant.
and i am walking these streets.

08/02/2003

Author's Note: the third poem in my chicago saga.

Posted on 08/03/2003
Copyright © 2024 Andrew S Adams