It’s the street step sticky like mucous stained black sidewalk that reciprocates
Creeping nose like fatty beef & fingers crooked serenades
Out of the corner of your eye you glance the head in the lap, man stands up
Woman kneels down, green as gold in these lean times
Beggars would rather a dollar than a draft, you give wonderworld excuses
Vagrant sighs, pay rent on time if you can hustle another daytime job
Nighttimes filled up by the hunger pangs & fangs of deliberation about nothing
In particular, forgetting to call home, pay the bills & the other calendar day lifestyle choices
Another 1% interest & that credit card is going to look just like your birthday month

Picking pockets is about the sleight, look one way, reach another
The jingle-jangle Christmas bells of street Santas in Chicago sound like an off-tempo rhythm
1-stop-2-stop-3-stop-4-stop waiting for a cab as you spy hands reaching into valuable holes
Don’t stop thinking about no tomorrow as you spy piles of shoelaces burning in the trashcan
It is virulent this subtle almost being that infects negative GDP & all the petty larceny
Of foot soldiers pounding Circle & Mason selling chocolate bars with peanuts & without
For their fake charities, might do better good driving down the waterway throwing out dimes
Giving proper change plus 10% for every time you see a mother & daughter split clothing in two

Al’s #1 Beef serving up artery-hardening sliced thin beef sandwiches & hand cut fries
With “Best Pizza In Chicago” on every corner & leftovers sitting atop the trashcans
Universities a stones’ throw from soup kitchens with dignity & heart, you start now!
You only get one chance to eat everything in sight while the moon comes early
Finding yourself ducking into the alleyways & sidestreets & wouldn’t it be cool
If you found THE PLACE no one has ever been too, for your next birthday party
Instead of TGI Friday’s like Mr. Magorium’s Wonderful Food Emporium

Damn straight it’s Irish whiskey as you forget your family tree & limp across the cement floor
Drain the snake in a corner where you find a hole in the ground, leading to the cellar
Stocked with 30 year scotch passed down from generation-to-immediate generation
Fiercely opposed to delayed gratification, give it now, fuck it now, eat it now
Fights sit right up there on the wooden walls as great emissaries bringing news of failures
Dollar buys a shot of Budweiser & other formerly American beers

Fuckin’ love the Bears!, Cubs are going all the way, I got season tickets
I’ve got a reason to get up early on Sunday after I pinched the ass of the waitress on Saturday
Wrigley Field sits unreal on the Blue line tracks pulling you in magnetically
It is the science of seep routing for the home teams, buying jerseys, painting your face
A ruby red, navy mess that looks like you punched yourself

You can see them on the streets, round bellies, self-fulfilled gullets, meaty faces
Carrying bags that don’t tell, walking with a forward favor & smoking cigarillos
That never touch their fingers, porous lips & yellow fingernails, Payless shoes
Buying everything from boutique convenience mart stores, Lake Erie beer

Trade shot for story, trade whiskey for rent, trade temporary salvo against aggressive landlord
For a reason why you fell off the wagon, it is lonely at the bottom, we will join you there
We want the same things, interest on our savings accounts & a roof over all heads

There is no more argument about what is right but simply what is
I will assist you with the thesis, Willis Tower just doesn’t sound right so whittle away at its corner stone

Walk the streets day or night & you will find yourself in the shining stone inevitable
© Adam Bresson

On December 19, 2007, I read at Velvet Guerilla Cabaret, Michael Slobotzky’s reading at Unurban Coffeehouse in Santa Monica, CA. I read four pieces: “You are Mary Steenburgen…” “You do not have to worry, I am maintaining radio silence…” “138 day countdown until St. Patty’s day…” “In this good dream we were slow fucking on the beach” Please visit www.adambresson.org for more poetry and writing.