A Marriage Made in Heaven

The sky, a cerrulean blue,
So bright it hurts the eyes.
A mystical presence
In the still beauty of the lake.

The buildings soar,
Elegant, sentient.
Even the dental work looks
Clean today.
People on and off the bus
Make good eye contact.
Chicagoans do, it seems,
And respect a kind of space.

There's a nip in the air,
That makes me wonder
What brings me back again and again,
To this jaded elegant town,
The lake lapping its skirt,
Like a friendly dog.

But New York is elegant, too.
And LA rocks, new.
What brings me back
To these gentle shores?
This city, beautiful and tired,
Perched on change, but eternal;
Timeless and frantic with the new.
I see the city in myself.

The gentle crevices of pain,
The passage of time,
The lines from raucous laughter.
The boldness, the sinew, the strength.
If Chicago is the city of Big Shoulders,
Then I am the woman of wide arms.

A marriage made in Heaven.