I left Chicago the year I arrived
In December while snow grew
from the sidewalk.
It took time to pack the car.
I could have stayed
My fiancé drew me back
I couldn’t not know my future wife
But her Mother wrecked her when I’d gone.
My part of Chicago was cold
The buildings were all Albany grey
And the floors all black tiled
Squeeked with wet sneakers all season.
I was a fraternal freshman
And our house the largest was amazing.
We had water wars
And beach volleyball.
We were rocking scientists
Listening to the Killer-B
And making Nirvanah
Smell like teen spirit.
We had three rectangled floors
And a basement.
We had a Halloween party
And learned to practice safe sex.
We were Dr. Seuss fraternity
With one named Larry
Who Re-Wrote the classic
And called it "Drunk-Man I Am."
And Drunk Man I was
With a mouthful of Whiskey Sour
In a motorcycler’s room
Every other night.
We carried each other to tests a lot
I remember crossing the busy street
At eight forty five
And getting a seventy in Calculus.
The first time I shaved my head
I was sober.
I was an Industrial Musician
Convening with the likes of Jourgenson.
I went to Wax Trax once with a Plastic Man.
His art was Plexiglass And tissue paper
And he and Morrison
Spent time On The Other Side.
My designer roomate
Had suspended my bed from the ceiling
With a single concrete screw
And a thin wood bar.
It came crashing down
The day after her visit.
His weak design almost killed us both
When the wood sunk into his designer mattress.
I finished my time there
In a private room
In a cubby hole under the raised floor
And dreamed of her at night.