her sleepy eyes looked up to
the sunless sky that was flooded with
tiny cloud like droplets
that coated her fluttering dark eyelashes.
she was walking on the train tracks;
her safe haven.
she found her peace here,
knowing that the trains had
a destination, so she must too.
she was thinking,
about how she always thought
snow was too romanticized.
the tracks was her spot
and her spot only, until today.
he reached out and grabbed
her hand, knowing
she was lost in thought.
he understood her
something she thought was
near impossible.
he smiled at her, as the sun
peaked out, just in time
to warm both of them,
just as he had warmed her heart.
it was a moment of apricity
on a cold afternoon
just like he was the warmth needed
to make her heart complete.

land of lincoln vanity plates,
dull midwestern states,
everything is dead in this place
by the first glimpse of september.
maybe someday autumn won’t feel
like the year’s downfall,
but I guess it isn't called
fall by mere chance.
the wind gives me a cold
shoulder, just one more
reminder, of how much
I cannot stand this place.
maybe next fall, i’ll be just a
memory in the midwest states.

I now know why you drove
on those dark winding roads.

the fear kicks in, your troubles
disappear and the only focus
is staying in between two yellow lines;
perfectly parallel
like you and I.

Every night the red door is there to greet you.
In the summer, you sneak into your house a half hour past curfew.
summer nights are long, and filled with memories.
You stay out late, in hopes that it will never end.

In the summer, you sneak into your house a half hour past curfew.
late night walks, sweet kisses, and stargazing;
You stay out late in hopes it will never end.
Autumn is approaching.

Late night walks, sweet kisses, and stargazing?
its not the same anymore.
autumn is approaching.
The leaves are changing, and so are your emotions.

It’s not the same anymore.
Autumn is busy, and friends all disperse.
The leaves are changing, and so are your emotions.
Every night the red door is there to greet you, but now its different.

Autumn is busy, and friends disperse.
You miss the way things used to be.
Every night the red door is there to greet you, but now its different.
Life is moving too fast for you to think clear.

You miss the ways things used to be.
Autumn breezes turn into winter frosts.
Life is moving too fast for you to think clear.
So much has happened in the course of a year.

Autumn breezes turn into winter frosts.
You turn the key to open the red door, thinking as always.
So much has happened in the course of a year.
The door has always let you back in, but life outside has never stayed the same.

You turn the key to open the door, thinking as always.
its now the end of the year, you think of how the door was a constant for every night.
The door has always let you back in, but life outside has never stayed the same.
life will give you a hard time, but theres always a place where the door won't slam.

you are the reason I'm okay with
this god forsaken state.
if I left, I would leave you behind.
I cursed this town before your name was a part of my world.
you make it okay to stay.
you are my Chicago.
some love the skyscrapers
and the sunsets on the beach
or the streets that curve and illuminate the whole town.
that is their chicago.
but you are mine.
your eyes and smile are the skyscrapers in my heart
and your laugh is engulfing
like the lake.
you'll be my Chicago--
the one I will be homesick for because when I think of home,
I think of you.

I understand it was forth of July,
Sipping whiskey watching the world fly by
But you didn't have to disappear
Like the colors at the end of the pier

-e.k. fm

A record spins, fast and smooth.
The music flows beautifully from the horn-
until there is a bump in the room.
The record is stuck,
with no escape to the next verse.
It repeats endlessly, until the listener
lifts the needle, so the record can
spin free again.
Life is a record, spinning wildly--
beautiful and fast at a constant speed,
until a problem halts the beauty.
It is stuck in a circle,
until the needle is lifted
and put back on track.

-e.k. fm

I grab the keys to my home on the go,
The place where I spent the last year-
on the road.

The year before is foggy,
just like the windows on my car,
one January evening. The passenger seat
is empty. I breeze by Archer Avenue, approaching
Ashbury coffee house, remembering smoking
American Spirit blues, and flipping cards while
not complaining about the bitter burnt coffee.
All my friends have moved away, but I still
look in my rearview mirror seeing mirages
of the people who were in the past.

In May, the flowers bloom again, I drive
on the open roads, which transformed in a tunnel
of luscious trees, and everything is finally green again.
My birthday rolls around, like it does year to year, but
someone new is beside me, this is so much different from nineteen.
The receipt I held on to since December fell out of my wallet as
I pay for more gasoline. That receipt is the only memento
I have left, from the night you met me.

July brings the sun, and the warmth that I needed.
I go for a drive, and the pavement is dry. The windows
are forever open in my car, and friends finally forget their
busy lives to go for a drive. last year, felt different, as we
have all matured. No matter how old we get, I think
we will always be friends, belting out that sweet catchy summer tune.

In October, I drive the most, thinking of how the year
is winding down. I sip on my latte, and look at my town.
I think about how one day I won’t just be hanging around.
So much has changed in just a short year, but the roads
have not. The passengers change season to season.
I reminisce about the past, but worry about the future.
Will these roads go on forever?

-e.k. fm

our parents were starting to worry
about what the future had in store
for the kids like us-
with after midnight blue Manic Panic
streaked through our hair and
our after midnight curfew.

we look at our friends, and
follow their lead, even though we
think we are anti-conformity.

pierce your nose, rip your jeans,
just buy a ramones shirt,
don't say please.

our parents says it's just a phase
oh, we will see.

-e.k. fm