I’ll stop the wind from blowing

Darkness moves across the city,

the sun dies.

Steel and concrete roots entwine

making the train lines hum.

I don’t remember the first photos.

Maybe it’s the shutter’s sound that makes me so wary

and gives me visual amnesia.

I walk.

I turn the corner and continue aimlessly.

Open for Business

Tattooed on the inside of its thigh,

Its noble eyes hide a dark past,

Overcast ..stormy.  . . .

The city won’t let you steal its soul away,

You have to work hard to take it to where you want.

I think I understand it better now:

you either dominate it or meet it head on.

A new rival

and it’s delighted. You won’t be

the first nor the last.

I don’t know what lies around the next corner.

I always immortalize my shoulder

I walk in the snow.

I step between the tracks of an old railway line.

I’m not sure what’s underneath all this snow.

My feet are getting wet.

I try not to look back,

I know the city’s watching me,

it doesn’t want cowards photographing it.

Its sound freezes the glance

all the time

everywhere

with every word.

My golden bridges melt in the sun.

Its inhabitants grow cold

like its streets,

like its winter days.

Tellers of stories you can watch over.

With every step you take,

you know you’re wearing out your boots.

I continue aimlessly,

Turn a corner and…bingo!

I take photos.

I try to increase my pace with every corner I turn

From the train’s window,

my architecture’s silhouette bids me a sleepy farewell,

grey,

cold.

I don’t want to trust.

I’m only trying to keep my distance,

just in case at the end of the day

I’ll be called to account.

It’s cold,

The wind slips unenquiringly through the city.

I’ll stop the wind from blowing.

Chicago. 2008-2013