Room 29

Room 29, I can step out onto Kedzie Boulevard
and watch a war
"Chris, man, they shot out the lobby again"
can you see the bulletholes, circles and spiderwebs
the way that cracking glass bleeds
"Shit man, if I'd a-come up five minutes earlier ..."
you'd be looking at a carcass behind the door
a bottle of blood and that weird yellow spinal fluid
and the stain where I'd shit my pants.

Room 29, I can open the window and hear
rapes in the alley and a deal upstairs,
which, by the way, I'd love to get in on

but I'm broke, which is why I live in Room 29
where I can close my cheap pine door
and mistake my paranoia for safety.
 

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