My Last Love Letter to My Former Lover

Dear Chicago,

Your damp windy nights have left me with a notion to write you a letter.

The sound of the L train used to horrify me as it cried by on its high rise of steel poles and bars. It looked as though it was chasing something
that it could never catch.
Something perhaps I should have been on and maybe
I would be moving toward the outside of this little shitty living space in this loop.
Instead I am waiting in this drafty apartment
that is sitting atop endless rows of stairs.

Your tower literally tilted and swayed my head
like the mighty black blocks balanced on top of one another that stood in front of me. With its reputation raised expectations,
along with my body in its elevator.
The feeling of being at the peak of the city stayed with me
from then till a decade later.

The dirty streets are lined with both people
of profession and those having no home.
Surrounding people either speaking to me, glaring or ignoring
all make me feel appreciated.
The air is loaded with dense pollution,
tension which makes me ache and addicted.

Lets meet tonight,
as soon as you can,
to make love under the dim lights of the old historic apartment with all hardwood floors and steel radiators.