Came to in a do
crossed and recrossed primary paths
John Farren was the block, but
DuSable wasn’t my destiny.
Corpus Christi around the corner,
death and destruction the Christian way.

Regal was a theater.

47th and Southpark, familiar smells of
popcorn, hotdogs, and lots of sweaty
bodies on a summer day.
Lost in Woolworth’s, lost in the
world.

Corner playground, sanctuary from sin
the “L” at its back carrying
a deafening din.
Street fights, freedom flights,
rabid dogs, a creeping
fog. Gangways and gangwars, playing
hide and seek with tomorrow’s tragedy.
Old men standing in place on a forgotten
corner, pulling the time of their lives
through the neck of a gin bottle.

Set your pace,
run in place
4855 a day of grace,
moved away, what’s
the use, no matter
how hard — can’t shake
that noose.
4855 I lived to sin.
4855 I’d do it agin,
4855 I’ve no regrets
I lived on 4855 Calumet.


— C.R. Giles