by Kelli Weldon
We’ll brave the winter, bite off our mittens
point with icy fingertips at the Sears Tower
or the Bean, cheesy smiles reflected back in curves.
Attitude at Ed Debevic’s, chili and crackers, maybe even
a hot dog. We’ll watch squids and seals at Shedd Aquarium,
hear the crack of the bat at Wrigley Field, eat peanuts
and Altoids in the stands. Bring your life jacket,
we’ll take a speedboat on the water, look up at skyscrapers
and later, hear a man playing saxophone in the street,
my kind of town. You’ll smile, we’ll pass shop windows,
go ice skating. When you get weary and sick of the world
I’ll rub your back between your shoulders
bring you a glass of water, wash your clothes,
sing you a song of my own.
About the Author:
Kelli Weldon was born and raised in Louisiana and now resides in Texas. Her poetry has appeared in publications including Black Moon Magazine, Eclectica Magazine, Frost Meadow Review, Remington Review, and Rewrite the Stars Review.