A Lake in Two Places
Looking north, out of waking's eyes,
From room 834 of the Drake Hotel,
Gazing toward the lake,
Chicago's undulating shoreline
Transporting our yawning flesh away, with it,
Through the lacy fretwork of May's rain —
Soft, silvery, sequin-faceted, fast-passing rain,
For rain's spring-blessed sake —
We linger in the sheets' caress,
Knowing that, soon, we'll have to dress,
Leave the lake behind,
The Drake's stately refuge,
In quest of our next destination —
Milwaukee's venerated Pfister Hotel —
Hoping Lake Michigan will find us again,
And be pleased that we didn't leave, after all.
05/23/11 - (1)
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