Our Lil’ Windy City

As I walk your streets

on a dark Saturday night,

I wish the wind would woosh so fast

that I would have no choice but

to bite my tongue

and go with you across to the lake.

Where children splash in the summertime

while eating your

deep-dish pies,

and where we used to embrace

while the lake’s

calm waves went

in and out.

But we are not in our heavenly little city.

For when we used to

fall on the pavement

we would be put back together

again.

The upscale restaurants

don’t even stop

for us anymore,

and neither will you.

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