Midnight Street

Midnight Street                                                     Craig Teichen

Halsted, Chicago

I.

I am a street that wears the clock of the night. 

I am under cover of every lamp, would you believe, that soaks up the light,                                             

making passage difficult for the users of walkers and canes,                           

all those who dive into their advancing years in broad daylight in chains.

I go this late evening hour thinning out the traffic (taxis and cars).

breaking open the sky above for a smidgeon of stars.

All of their importance I seem to wear.

From time to time I listen to the bullshit of the street artist and swear.

The Night Club Strip, Halsted St., Chicago

II.

I am brought to you by the nightclub scene,

the merriment of poppers and the marijuana queen.     

I turn every cell phone into an accident of cars.

Far over me the silence of the late evening stars.

O for the young!  I suffer their frustrations, their quest for love, the dance floor

beat. 

I am their rhythm on any cold midnight hour, the peddler of feet.

I enter the night gallery of so many lives.                                                   

I make sure that among all of the videos the whiskey survives.

Lying wide open to the early morning hours,                                                    

I weave through my sidewalk borders, you might say, a bed of flowers.