Another Shooting

Chicago is doing its home

Chicago thing—     sweet baby

blue skies, fading into haze on the lake

horizon, huge

puffs of  gray-bottomed cumulus, stark

autumn light in brilliant 55 degrees air

and a forecast of  possible

snow flurries tomorrow.

I love it when it does that greedy

fuck you meteorology thing—

this town ain’t big enough for

the weather and     a weather man

somebody got to go— it takes you

out                              in style.

You don’t even know that

it is.     anything

you don’t know.     it just is.

like the names of  streets.     north   south.

elm.

Murder.     The capital isn’t here

Our per capita

too small         though our totals reign

as natural as rain  as police.

But we     die.      protected

yes     this here just then didn’t make sense.

And neither does that

it is

something accepted.