Loud drums and idols, an old garage.
Now she’s strumming evergreens,
while she’s living out her dreams.

Swimming with her sister through letters.
Serving, renting, self, she’s been.
Now she’s living what she means.

Something about Chicago.
It’s always followed me.
Four women from Chicago,
My whole history.
Three airports and a desert.
Show up and then they leave.

Islands, laughing, crying tiny towns.
Now she’s happy, creating.
Building other people’s dreams.

Fell down and found me, an old garage.
Leaving. Apple. Being free.
Of happiness, she spoke to me.

Found happiness, they spoke to me.
There’s something about Chicago.
Show up and then I leave.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s