chicago

the city of concrete caves
and paintings on the walls,
where steely glass trees
ride suspensions in the blue
sway to the eloquence
of the whispering wind;
and what does it know,
the lakes never say.

clackity, click, clack,
light and whoosh above
fast leather souls below,
voices fade in a distant
mechanical megaphone;
a window frame shakes
a calendar out of date;
how the toaster rattles
burns an L on my salute.

flee tall symmetry tumbling,
falling, flying, humbling;
in a vision’s glass mirage,
the ground floor’s veil and
the sky-scraped embrace
stroll amongst tall clouds,
captured in conversation.

chicago

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