This Side of The Windy city

This Side of the Windy City

By. Carley Hoffman

2.7 million people. Buildings stretch

reaching for the sky above. Tall, immaculate, domineering 

all others in sight. All these people, all these buildings but do you remember 

watching those beams rise up? Remember when the foundation was poured

and far below your room 

men dotted the stirred up ground as plans were set in motion?

Because this city has another side.

Your side belongs in white walls and sterile rooms.

The hand soap that is generic at best but a whiff still brings you back

to the cold hands that hold you, feel you,

touch and prod you, and the heated blankets that are always offered 

as a supplement to your frigid home

of monitors and constant beeping because

silence

leaves room for thought and thoughts are dangerous 

on this side of the city.

Outside of your walls and tucked away, 

not too far but far enough to elude, 

is your other home on this side of the city.

The foyer of deep chestnut, the help desk, the first floor living room 

that at Christmas holds villages and stories you love 

to gaze upon but can never touch.

The stairs that wind to the second floor you race up

to your room of two beds shared and a couch opened.

Back down in the dining hall where all the families 

like yours eat, pretending this is normal

as their kids, their plates still full, rush to the playroom nearby.

Let them play because at least they are smiling.

But soon you’re again whisked away 

back to the white walls and the strings tying you down to earth 

as if your only anchor to this home are those cords in your chest.

The food here you eat but the smell even now makes you 

more sick than the poison they are pumping into you until

you can leave again. When you leave and venture out into the real side of the city.

The side of museums and fountains and reflections

of a world so different from the one you know. A city of wind and people and faces 

that are unrecognizable from the rest. A side of chaos and hustle and pace.

A pace too fast for you.

And so despite it all, the machines don’t bother you and like muscle memory you offer your arm

hold your breath and impress them with your tolerance

because nevermind the discomfort and pain.

You will always feel at home on this side of the city.