Revolution of the Bean
A flash thunderstorm hits Millennium Park. Tourists scatter as though coming under sniper fire. Some run towards the Pritzker Pavilion for shelter. Others flee in the direction of Michigan Avenue. You join a crowd taking refuge beneath the Bean. It seems like a good spot to wait. Silver rivulets of rain swirl over the sculpture’s mirrored curves. People look upwards and murmur in aesthetic appreciation….
Waiting for Friends
1 A kettle of turkey vultures is doing that thing. They soar in one place, black wings widespread, catching the updraft to nowhere, stuck in the blue expanse like freckles on a face. They form no shape, but are framed between two tall buildings, air conditioning units and clothes coloring the sides. If this is the Caribbean Sea, if the vultures are sharks, and we…
Tiny Little Suitcases
You were so nice it jawed my jugular and has yet to let go. Eating ice cream with you makes me suspicious. Your beard has taken up residency in the upper left ventricle of my heart. A nest of finches in your beard. A small colony of mites in the feathers of the finches. I want to hang a No Vacancy sign on my chest.
Once More for Love on the T
There are old subway tickets taped to my refrigerator. One still holds three trips’ fare left over from a visit with you. I think of all the time holed up there, all that steeled thundering I will never hear in the minutes between stops. In the window above the sink, the sky darkens, sparks, offers a dry, wandering cough. The kitchen feels like a room…