Streets of dreams of fatherless boys;

Follow them north to Wrigley, follow

Them east to the lake, follow your hat

to where the wind has taken it.

Follow him into the Green Mill

Let your eyes adjust to the dark

And the cool. Follow the bus route

on bitter cold January days, walking from

stop to stop to keep from freezing.  Follow

the streets from north

To south, the ones your grandmother

Hurried down, the ones your father took

And made his own, the ones

you remember feeling like a stage, a set

you got to enter, the bell on the door

of the cleaners your grandmother worked

in and lived behind, the windows the only

Light let into the place, the light soft and amber

When dusk hit and it hit in blues you still

Can’t name.  Follow the bridges and the rumble

Of the El, circling the heart of the city,

circling your heart just as clattering

and stubborn.  Remember

The New Years Eve when the conductor

Turned the lights off between stops

And everyone shrieked and laughed, and then

Waited for her to do it again? How the young

Woman in front of you questioned

her friend’s boyfriend, about why

he was ignoring his girlfriend.  The girlfriend

sitting alone a couple rows up

And then in the flicker of the light

You saw them kissing.  Chicago

With all its backstabbing and heartbreaks,

All its pretty girls for the taking. Its love

Of losers and hard-fought games, still

Lost.  Bridges and a river more suited

For booze than blood.  The lions

that welcomed me in, finding through them

the beauty of Van Gogh’s haystacks. Finding

light and colors I had never seen.

The trees at Lincoln Park my first loves

For the sparrows they let live and sing and

The dappled light they let find its way to me.

Julia Klatt Singer