The New Stockyards

A photo of someplace, somewhere, some-
time and he is transported back in time

to Wabash Avenue, winter, evening, slushy
streets, the roar and rumble and screech

of the “L” overhead, lights flashing, exhaust
pouring from cars stopped at the light, head-

lights blasting into faces, billows of steam
streaming from the mouths and nostrils of

walkers scurrying across the street, cold feet,
wet, leather shoes with leather soles (before

anyone thought about a good, practical use for
rubber) and Miller’s Pub and a well vodka

martini filled to the brim before heading back
out to find the car coated with dirty, wet ice.

He remembers that he had wondered whether
or not he had remembered to put the ice

scraper in the car as he rubs his toes together
in his new, warm, stylish, wool blend socks

in his well-worn leather slippers and then
he remembers that he had.

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