Another Letter to Chicago

Today, after I finally found the box

In which I'd packed my shaver, I decided

To grow some sides to my goatee. For a week

I'll look half-mad. With any luck I won't

Meet anyone worth meeting till it's in.

In fact I'm hoping to hook up with a friend

Of Ann's. Tomorrow I'll try my contacts again.

(The Thai waiter just brought my appetizer -

Grilled squid on a stick. It's delicious.)

I've made one friend already - my neighbor's beautiful

Golden-tressed daughter gave me a hug

Then asked if I'd like to marry her.

I didn't have a ready answer, never

Having been proposed to before - ``I'm sure

That you could do much better'' came to mind,

But can self-deprecation be attractive?

She'll be turning twenty-seven in about

Twenty years. I think I also met

Her cat, a subtle gray and beige shorthair.

The effect is spoiled by the sixteen neon-pink

Claw-sheaths someone has affixed to its paws.

People take furniture seriously on this street.

It seems half-starved - I can practically count its bones

By looking at it - and stroking it is disturbing.

I was standing in my little yard (enclosed and about

The size of a prison cell) resisting the urge

To pace in compulsive circles, when the cat came by.

Some source of water burbles beyond my bushes -

It's calming. In the sunlight I could see these patterns

Traced in midair by almost invisible dots.

My door is narrow. I have more windows than walls.

A tiny creature - I used to see the like

Frequently in Chicago - has flown in, never to find

The door again. It is hurling itself against

A window, trying to get back to wherever it's from.

I hope I won't be seen doing the same.