Public Access Poems Episode III: Twenty Seventh Birthday Poem

I wrote this in the early hours of my twenty seventh birthday, live on Reddit Public Access Network.  

A Mild Chicago Ditty 

Cube-a-minute rounds these parts,
write a shape and it appears,
a real whose-dimension-is this-
anyway type caper. I had been

                    talking with a fellow amatour 
                    etymologist when right off the page
                    one of those chisel-faced trapezoids
                    made its absence scarce, in the middle

of Oldie Town Pub like it was nothing. 
I ride the saw, see, but in some shapes

it lingers on the Sade side longer than Plath

and goddamn it, I drink here to relax!

                

Not that it was Waco or nothing. 

Just some square left his uniform on
while he wound down. But there was
piss enough in my mouth so I bugged,

                        nabbed some cans (round buddy bots)

                        caught bigger round bot back home. 
                        And again no whirlwind catastrophe,
                        I returned home crumpled as I left -

that's just where the issue lays. 

I've lived in Chicago nearly two years

and I just see expressionist elbows, 

funhouse legumes and triangles - 

The most fantastic ant farm in the world,
but not like I've had to worry about 
someone hogging the blankets,
or the bed being too warm.  

             The aforementioned shapes, the only 
             effective device I employed, soggy albeit? 
             I made them up. I was drinking alone,
            all the way home. It was the day before 

my birthday a year ago.