Dave Hughes: In Defense of Winter…

Don’t get me wrong.
I am, counted among their number,
the complainers,
the movers,
the snowbird wanna be’s.
San Fran has its big shakes
to knock loose the limp dick limpets.
New Orleans just kills you outright,
Go ask Johnny Thunder.
But here,
here we are not shaken but chilled.
Make no mistake about it
we aren’t the city Sandburg called big shouldered,
not by a long shot.
But dammit we still have the balls for this.
I still see us whiskey red faced shoveling three times a night.
We still huddle at the El stops,
because Chicago does not stop.
On those twenty below nights,
the warm lights of corner taverns,
still spill out across the snow.
And every true Chicagoans heart strings are plucked,
by the raucous symphony within.
We still drive like possessed assholes
down streets that look like they’ve been carpet bombed.
We will still ignore,
the politicians while they sprain something,
patting themselves on the back for the reduced murder rate.
We endure this, and the rest,
because we know soon the snows will recede.
We will explode onto the potholed streets of spring,
and invade the lakefront.
We will forget all the dark promises we muttered on dreary mornings,
Because at the end of the day we are,
blockheaded,
stubborn,
tough,
incomprehensible,
and we are, Chicago.

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2 Comments

  1. I loved it. I miss Chicago, where air hurts my face, potholes swallow small cars, and public parking costs half my salary 😉

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