Chicago, I’m drunk in your cunt. If I vomited, I’d have to crawl thru it. Chicago I tell you this because a woman might take offense, but you’ll fuck me whatever I am. Chicago, they call you a man-trap, but you’re not sadistic; your love isn’t serious, it’s slapstick, hysterical. Chicago, Chicago, man’s a comedian and you write his script. A man talks to himself only to be overheard. There’s no alienation between your legs, altho, when there, a man’s alone. Chicago. You’re not all I need, but you’re all I get. I must confess, even if I have to crawl thru it: I’ve been an ass all my life— I’ve been afraid of being free. I’m all fucked uo, Chicago, but what the hell, you don’t complain— there’s only you to blame.
6 June 1979