Halsted Street Car

Come you, cartoonists,
       Hang on a strap with me here
       At seven o’clock in the morning
       On a Halsted street car.

             Take your pencils
             And draw these faces.

 Try with your pencils for these crooked faces,
 That pig-sticker in one corner—his mouth—
 That overall factory girl—her loose cheeks.

             Find for your pencils
             A way to mark your memory
             Of tired empty faces.

             After their night’s sleep,
             In the moist dawn
             And cool daybreak,
               Faces
             Tired of wishes,
             Empty of dreams.

Published in Chicago Poems

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