Chicago, you're no good for me. We both know. Here and there for a moment, it becomes clear to me that you love this, this thing you do. You can't not, I suppose, and then I love that you love it, and we laugh about it, and I love you again. I smile and offer directions to tourists and don't lie to them like I'm tempted to when they're toting Cheesecake Factory to-go bags and looking for the American Girl Store. When the older women on my street pass by with their tiny dogs and throw tiny looks at some tiny half-pajama outfit, I smile and say hello and good morning and what is his/her name? I wear sunglasses and walk south for coffee, dodging stray sprays from the sprinklers in the patches of grass between the sidewalk and curb, tiny fenced-in, manicured plots still wet from yesterday's rain. It's hot and sunny this morning, will rain hard later, and I've just made outdoor plans for this evening.
We're together, then not, but I fall for you again and again, each time I'm on a train that's not too bad and the light's just right. Budweiser, Beatles, whatever; it's gorgeous and I love it because it works and makes me happy in spite of all else. And this video does too.
Do what you want, you always do, but I suggest watching this a few times; Chicago, palimpsestic.
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