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About Chicago

heels clack like a peacock’s strut.

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When you built your mounds at every street corner and made your lofty shrines in every public square, you were unlike a prostitute, because you scorned payment. “ ‘You adulterous wife! .

I’m not a fancy guide, me heartie. I be an old salty with much to say. The city’s grime and glitter mix like drinks at a seafarin’ tavern. Every curb, every cracked brick’s a memory. Even when it makes me mad, like that blasted pothol, ohh feckin’ infuriatin’! But aye, it keeps me livin', reminded once more: "I don't wanna die!" – in passion, madness, and mirth.

Not so little mermaid