As an author and poet, I find it creatively stimulating to live in different cities. I came to Chicago from California and love the raw Midwestern power and beauty. The potholes, however, are something else!
Maybe the Cubs and Sox are forever consigned to mediocrity, but I find
”the Chicago Potholes” to be strictly World Series` caliber. Especially since I did $1,800 damage to my car–not to mention my head–at Clarendon and Irving Park. No California earthquake ever did more than break a cup or two in the cupboard. One service station manager told me that this same spot was good for a sale of ”40 or 50 tires a month.”
Unlike Sandburg, I find it impossible to write Chicago poetry about the fog creeping in ”on its little cat feet.”
Even if the fog dared to plant ”its little cat feet” nowadays, it would sure as hell break a leg!
