Swiggers of the world react differently
to the sauce.

Some turn into chickens or flatheads,
afraid of a billowing plastic bag that
flows down the street. Tensions on high alert
of a fighting word or balled-up fist.

Others cut a rug, becoming the best
ducky shincracker the night has ever seen.
Swing and jive beautifully emulated
on liquor-fused rhythms. As the horn
section and drums of the orchestra are in
constant competition.

And some flip their wigs, looking for rhubarbs with
knuckleheads. Their logic a mass
of gobbledygook that ferments itself on
a spirited tongue.

After the lettuce has wilted from their hands
and the bender has reached the curve,
the souses will fall prey to shuteye.
Reluctant witnesses to
cockeyed dreams.

Shontay Luna was born in Chicago and is trying, in her own quietly desperate way, to make her city known for something besides pizza and Al Capone.