Dimitry Samarov

In a dream I rode every bus and train
climbed into every color and number we know
and circled the city for days.

And I nodded hello when people
pushed open the firm CTA doors
and a few people asked me the time

but I mostly rode in silence
listening for some rumble from outside
and I circled the days of a city

At 5 a.m., the South Side
wrestling out of slumber
so a mother can go clean up the beer bottles
in Lincoln Park.
And each chord of time asked for a few people
and in my silence I heard a teacher
softly tell his students, no books yet

And I heard the chatter outside
The corner currency exchange
And the beginning of the morning pull
Of the financial district
A swarm of people and suits spinning in firm revolving doors.

And at night I dreamt
Everyone in the city took out a pen
And wrote to it I love you or
why must you or
next year, you must be or

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1 Comment

  1. Such a beautiful ode to the city. It manages a clear sensibility about real life, as well as a belief in what can be in its dream-speak, slow phrasing. I like how the ending sums up how we love a place, what we wish for it — the depth of that pull.

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