31 July 1999

A Day on the CTA
December 18, 1998

part 3

Feed the city, CTA, your tendrils
Make a map, CTA, your interconnectednesses

Write a Utopia, CTA, your cursive
Stitch the city, CTA, your tracks
Deliver us to ourselves, CTA, your omniscience
Draw a picture, CTA, your lines
Paint a mural, CTA, your colors

Save the city, CTA, save the city

Bring us our history every six minutes, CTA, your schedules
Bring me down, CTA, for I am way up at Howard
I'm meeting Death at the Handcock for Happy Hour CTA so fly
Carry me and my children to work, CTA, for you are transit
And I am a populus
I am nothing if not overworked & I still like the Cubs
You call me the Windy City
I blow cold iron kisses to you, the clank of handcuffs
For although I am a brutal police state, I am basically a good guy
This place has a history, & a map of its train routes reads like a fingerprint
Etch the sky with flam
Wings of train, CTA, feathers of people.

Newspoetry at Spineless Books