Confessions of a Human Nerve Ending

Come and show me another city with lifted head singing      so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning. --Carl Sandburg-- A rickety ride on a the Blue Line to Bucktown. Snow falling on the city as we grind up the self-imposed hill as the train goes from subway to elevated and the city opens up down below both windows: small wooden decks with neglected grills, graffiti only a commuter will see and no eye contact, head phones, small quiet conversations, people concentrating on books as each stop is announced and suddenly its Damen--my stop. Platform made of steel, covered in creaky weathered wood with grey snow pushed up into corners and the crowd steps off the train into weather, windy, wet, wintry weather and we wind our way around an equal number getting on and we march in asyncopation, bottled up behind a big, lumbering black woman, carrying too many bags to make these slip-steel steps something n...