wherever i'm at that land is Chicago

forgive my geography, it’s true i’m obsessed

with maps. with flags. a Starbucks on the block

means migration. any restaurant with bulletproof glass

is a homecoming. underneath my gym shoes

is a trail of salt. that last sentence is a test.

does the poet mean:

(a) grief

(b) winter

(c) diaspora

(d) this is the wrong question

(e) all of the above

i’m always out south

of somewhere. i know the sun rises

in Lake Michigan and sets out west.

i got primos i’ve never met. there’s a word

for that. (where did they go?) all the steel mills shuttering up

like conquered forts. one day, there will be an urban tour

through South Chicago. picture the soy cappuccino-

sipping cool kids wearing Chicago Over Everything-

branded hoodies taking selfies in front of machines

that once breathed fire. pretending the bones

are the real thing.