Chicago in Your Hair

Cigarette smoke crawls
the back of your neck.
Wind ripples through,
bending the rain,
the smell of pizza and baked goods
inflating the hair like yeast from the
bakery on the corner.
 
Umbrellas climb out of their skins,
cone-shaped tornados
pulling you up by the hair.
 
The jingle of the homeless man's cup
bounces with your hair as you look away,
embers glowing from his leathery hand,
his gray hair limp, like molting feathers.
You are quickly thankful yours is shiny and young.
 
The shattering of the train tracks
resounds in your skeleton
as the wind tunnel gusts forward,
and hair strands mixed in its fury
try to climb away from you.
 
A boy pushes his hat down,
hair sprouting out the bottom,
trying to escape to his shoulders.
 
The Eskimo’s pursed lips
might freeze that way
after kissing the cold.
You envy his hooded ring of fur,
but your hair has braved Chicago
among the scattering shoes,
your pair still lost in the crowd.

Through the 3rd Eye was supported in its inception by the Grand Rapids Humanities Council and is currently made possible by continued volunteer effort and private support. Copyright 2013.