Milwaukee Avenue

VOL. LIT NO. I

APRIL 1938

TWO POEMS

MILWAUKEE AVENUE

A SPHERING sky, like a drop curtain hangs

Over, behind red buildings-a dome of blue

Up here above Milwaukee Avenue,

Where snow flies and the blast harangues.

Down in the Loop the forty storey spire

Proves how the old days are estranged ;

Nothing much here is changed,

This street escaped the Fire.

This is a part of Norway, Germany,

Where markets, stores and local advocats,

Where restaurants and stove-heated flats

Remain much as they used to be.

The same broad faces walk here as of yore;

Polish and Swedish voices can be heard,

And racket from the pavement, stirred

By trucks, by carts from door to door.

Here in the market window is half a steer

Hanging with sheep all frosted by dressed fowls;

Here the sign creaks, as winter howls,

Here are warm rooms for wine and beer.

All this transports the memory, and remakes

The past into the present, as in a dream

One walks here, smelling steam

Of coffee, pork and cakes.

But how this zero weather through leather nips

The hands, and stings uncovered ears,

And brings to eyes the tears,

And flaps a coat about the hips!

One's face grows redder than a winter haw,

And from one's nose hang icicles.

To push against this blast scon tells

In frozen cheeks, blood raw.

Into some near saloon then: here is one.

It is the same as in the former days:

The sanded floor, the mirror, the displays

Of bottles, and the quaint orchestrion;

The cuckoo clock with rusted weights and chains,

The paintings of Andromeda and Bismarck,

Or Tam O'Shanter, flying the cuttysark,

The marbled frost upon the window panes;

The cannon stove on which a kettle seethes,

And the warm corner where

The drunkard sleeps, whose care

Is drugged, who snores, who deeply breathes.

The bowl of Tom and Jerry on the bar,

The cheese and ham, the beef, free lunch,

Which one can leisurely munch,

And smoke a strong cigar,

And talk meanwhile to the bartender, worn

From years here; yet to ask and find

He cannot bring to mind

Gus Lenke or John Horn.

JAKE MANN