Get Off at Damen

We take the brown line north, we get off at Damen. It takes forever to get there, the distance between Sedgwick and Chicago is a lifetime. We get off at Damen, I get turned around but you right me like you always do. It's maybe a little chilly but we keep our jackets open just because, the perfume and the cologne free to mix and mingle and terrify the strangers. We see the door, the line, we put our name in, we have to wait to wait. We go down the street, under the signs, looking through the windows and their closed-up doors. Lamps and soaps and maps and hand-me-downs, lives old and new and over and just beginning, and everyone's jackets are open. It takes long to get here but we remember when we have. We sit on a bench and look at him, her, then, dogs, the pigeons almost seem smart. The sun is winding down, the voices rise, the jackets stay open, we are in defiance. We are in love, and we walk hand in hand, down the streets, farther from the place. Every place looks happy, every person looks good, and it gets dark and we know it will be a late night. The phone rings and we're too far just to walk. We get on the nearest brown line, take it north, and we get off at Damen.