I wish that I could go

Back to that city that

I oh so loved.

I’m always dreaming

of Chicago.

The place in which

I wake up and

I don’t know where I am.

It’s like I’m dreaming

in Chicago.


And then I drink back

So many goddamn shots

Feels like I’ll never ever

Find my way home.

Though it was only

‘quarter mile away.

And there were some times

That I would step outside

To bid farewell the bar

And the sun shone bright

On those fine mornings.


Oh I couldn’t conjure a

Finer time, to wake up

With stupid tattoos

in the morning.


5 thoughts on “BOGAN13

  1. You bring back fond memories. That’s how all my tattoos were found. It started in a friendly neighborhood bar in Denver. After far more tequila than the maximum permissible body burden, I went home to my barracks and there I awoke; penniless, missing critical items of clothing, and various dangling participles obviously abused. And, those tattoos, those works of art, freshly burning in my skin like a branded bovine quadraped. Damn, I enjoyed that!

    Liked by 1 person

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