Chicago is Angry dr. moore
Chicago is angry. Streets of asphalt, Chipping around the edges of holes That never seem to fill. Chicago is angry. No, not the interstates, Intersecting in spaghetti-like fashion, Where no signal in the fast lane Shouts the lane crossover At the next exit to come. Chicago is angry. No, not the exquisitely erected Towers of steel and glass, Paying homage to generational wealth That has never, Will never, Trickle down. Chicago is angry. No, not the red and brown brick homes, Not the bungalows, the framed two flats, No, not the courtyard buildings, Not the greystones that mark neighbors In neighborhoods appreciated, Depreciated, And not. Chicago is angry.
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