The magic of
Tall,
canyoned streets,
Sunset
reflections at the lake front,
Sirens
layered on symphonies
Of color and
activity,
The
sidestreet blues bar where smiley, surly Joe
Called up
groups of white, Latino, and Asian musicians
To join the
jam – they play
From the
belly and light up the eyes of the watching weary,
The el train
to DePaul on a Cosby street,
Or my
beloved Mexico beckoning through a dark-eyed bartender,
Serving
tropical, smoky-sweet and tangy-tongued tastes
To sultry
samba sways.
Is it
possibility, or triumph?
Full
bellied, I clattered down your streets, enamored of
Traffic, of
industry, of old bridges facing down steel-windowed facades.
I lusted for
you without knowing, and
You sated my
desire
Until I
could only brim with the buzzing of excitement.
Yes,
I was born here, close by.
I came into
the world and quickly walked away,
And in my
absence you grew glorious.
Thirty years
later you called out to me, and I found you,
Arriving at
myself
This perfect
blue-sky day.
Unbelieving
in my good fortune, our fair match.
These days I
am more easily captivated by a place,
Falling in
love with cities is the new high,
Now that my
ring finger is fixed on one man and sobriety simplifies.
Now I live
to discover new homes for my heart
And the
world beckons endlessly, the many-metropolised Medusa.
Explore,
discover, enjoy, she whispers.
Some cities
are certainly sexy.
Mutual
attraction, or fated fantasy?
Is it in the forgetting of self
that accompanies adulthood,
making the senses ring when life's nectar drips into view?
Or have I earned this appreciation
through toiling hours and quiet questioning?
What a
world! What a life! I'll take you with me when I go,
Chicago.
