Chicago, Chicago, that one party town
plays the frozen music of all da Blues,
while Democrats draped in nanny gowns
join singin' and the clappin' in the pews.
They raise a new world of rebar, glass and steel
above the cobblestones, but not to worry,
in thirty years this too gives way to bones.
So, let's go, boys. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.
The wounds of politics and love's betrayal
are like bricks and motor to a city's wall.
These are the scars of living any place:
You cut me. I cut you. It's either law or grace.
Electric speakers spark the church bells toll.
Girls take out lace handkerchiefs and wave.
Some believe that if the pain is in your soul,
then you may carry it beyond the grave.
Photograph by Ira Joel Haber
Fragments of a body with its skin removed