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I tumbled
across someone else’s sky
and dog paddled against the current
of my life’s axis
to gain back a day
like a time traveler
with a single-entry Visa.
I lay down atop faith’s
great metallic wings
and ascended to frozen altitudes
while your stars danced with mine,
stirring up the odds
for a final time.
It was more than a journey,
more like regret spelled backwards,
more like the ignition
of a soul reimagined.
I landed at the heart
of a cauldron of lights and
shops selling handmade sleep.
You welcomed me home,
cradling my untamed future
as it suffered through jet lag
and shivered,
unaccustomed to the cold.
This is more than a city,
more like incandescence,
more like a state
of drunken wakefulness,
alcohol in the blood and
black coffee in the brain
where people bleed in different colors
and hurting is nothing but
works of art waiting to be born.
I dreamed of you
as I wandered only half awake
in culture-stained downtown
while my starved senses slowly
learned new syllables of reality
and came to terms with
the idea that you’re mine now
to touch
to have and to hold
and you were there by my side,
clothed in warmth
and tattooed with a new beginning
when I finally opened my eyes.

“Chicago Portrait, Neal and Ashley”
by photographers The Youngrens


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