THE APARTMENT

i just got out of prison.
i found an apartment.
3 small rooms...
a hundred bucks, a week.
pay ahead...to a polish landlady.
the bathroom was filthy.
fruit flies were coming from,
empty bottles of sweet brandies...
standing like soldiers, in the corner of the living room.
i cleaned every thing up.
i scrubbed for hours with detergents,
and Lysol.
i had one small window,
with a view of a dog food factory...
across the chicago river.
when the east lake michigan winds blew,
the acrid stink of horse corpses...
made my throat raw.
i had a night job,
on halsted and chicago avenue.
i threw boxes of liquor on trucks.
during the daytime, i wrote.
the incessent noise in the apartment house...
paper thin walls...
drove me insane.
knocking, pounding, arguing, sounds of sex,
sounds of passion, ignited my mind.
i had much to write about.
i didn't mind all the bullshit.
the trash...
the city...
i was glad to be home.