Searching For Nelson Algren
spitting blood
into the fog
along the chicago
river, under
the michigan
avenue bridge
four in the morning
one cold dark
nighttwo fingers on
my left hand
broken
all my
knuckles bleeding,
drinking a half
pint of
jim beam
straight downstaggering &
looking up
through the fog
at the
lopsided
man in the moona tug boat
down river
toots twice
as i
make it up
the steps
to the
boulevard& head over
to an
all night dive
on clark street
for more
of the
same
Dearborn Station Chicago
Sanchez
1970’s
skateboard
attached by
bongie cordto his
ragged
plaid backpack100 pounds
overweightperpetually
huffing &
puffinglike death
walking
down a
steep inclineMatt, the Gimp
peg-legged
one-eyed
his one
good
eye dull-grey
& wateringhis wooden
peg sharpened
into a spearrolling Velvet
pipe
tobaccointo tight little
smokessitting with
his peg outon the radiator
next tothe women’s
restroomZack & Ruby
all up in
my face
with foul
breath
& blood
shot eyes.
his girlRuby
behind him
like a
Siamese
Twin, her
pretty face
plastered
up againstZack’s
back like
there was
only one
idiot
& not
two of ‘em,always hustling
for bennies, cigs
or coffee
money.Jonnie “Mac” Brown
a scar
as long
& wide
as a
healthy
bananacurved down
her right
forearma gashing
deep ravine
of pink
into her
beautiful
black fleshsmiling &
spinning in
slow
semicircleswhispering
her own
nameHope
your
only
fuck-
ing
hope
here
is
find-
ing
the
peace
of
this
mo-
mentjump-
ing
on
and
ridd-
ing
it
to
the
end
of
the
linewhere
the
dream
ends
and
you
begin
to
be
what
you
have
always
been
‘Searching for Nelson Algren’: beautiful piece. Startling opening, powerful…