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The Jerry Garcia lookalike sells cigars,
corner shop favored by cops. He drinks beer and
he and the dog watch old TV.

Across the way the Polish Deli, get the potato pancakes always.
Chicago Avenue on this bit is retail and ghetto residential
on top of the shops.

Flat and wide, it contain a low sky,
ferocious sun or oppressive clouds.
Always piquant variety of urban perambulator -
crazy cat lady, Hispanic horde, drug addict, hipster chick and
all flavors of anonymity.

Down toward Damen Avenue the businesses cram askew.
Dollar store, ghetto mart, fast food and cell phones for
those who wait for the bus. Always people waiting for the bus,
stoic souls firm against the vortex of trash, mocked
by photoshopped ads pointing from plexiglass.

Junkies like other vermin infest the vacant asphalt,
nobody seems to know how to get rid of them. Watch out
near the ghetto mart, here civilization crumbles into chaotic,
old ladies and rusty sedans will run you down.

Ancient ugly storefronts back up by the Polish deli.
What did travel agencies look like in medieval times?
Look in and find out. Also peek in the ugly tailor shop
and view the most beautiful woman in the world:
a fatigued Ukrainian lass stitching pants.

Turning a corner to this patch of flat asphalt
renders one both wary, nostalgic and happy.
Thin trees shelter lunch eaten in a parked car.
Another hopelessly hopeful storefront opens,
a tattooed woman doggedly arranges a display.