*solo bass begins –  pensively*

The Architect steps out from the shadows

*clinking of drinks*

.

.

The working man will begin from a square, with four equal sides of a life that ends in pain and isolation

with 2 long views framing a vista into the depths on the lonely landscape of a wrecked economy

that will be barren, like the bottom depths of the recession of our aspirations

The working man will rise up, arms a kimbo, joining arm and arm and side by side while parking in cul de sacs to carry sacks of snacks through the side hatch to the kitchen of a better life

With bags under his eyes and and the weight of the work on his shoulders and the memory of the day on his lips, and his hand on his hip,

The working man looks for some solace in a chair near some glass with view and some class in a glass and place to crash his ass

So he aims for the eames and he chases the chaise while his dogs bark for the barcelona because you KNOW that the working man can not hear the wind when it wails in a windsor

And the working man will cast his aspirations into the concrete flooring of a better tomorrow

And the working man will hire the Architect for the heirarchy of the Architecture and the texture of Art and the craft of the Arch of the souls of the shoes of the working man’s blues

And the skies will be clear.

Like glass.

for the working man works…..

Man

.

*bass solo swells, slows, and fades*

*the Architect fades back into the shadows*

*clink-clinkity-clink*

J

.

.

photo of the exterior of the Green Mill in Chicago from plasticshore’s photostream on Flickr

all other photos of the Green Mill are from Rebecca Anne’s photostream on Flickr

(all used under the creative commons license)

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