East Side Milwaukee

This is the place.

This is the upstairs hideaway

where time was spent with splendorous abandon.


A place where the crackling tempo of snow tapping it's way across brittle

window panes could be heard 'round the clock.


I remember the night you stirred in your sleep

as I stood peering out the window at the mounds of snow and ice.


I asked you if you'd like to have a look at the ravenous cold with it's sharp smile;

You awoke evolving with elegance

and declaring the cold night's beauty as our own.


Ray Strickland jr. 1999

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