Michigan Avenue

 

The sea-swell of holiday shoppers rolls

Along the icy sidewalk. On every block,

The bell-ringers, God bless them! Where do they all come from

With their silver trumpets, their fancy uniforms and jubilant caroling? 

My father gives ten dollars; I give a dime.

 

Outside the fur stores, protesters sit cross-legged

In metal cages; they hold up signs

“Remember” as barrel-chested policemen

Shoulder through the crowd.

 

My father says that if we are vegetarians then we shouldn’t be wearing leather,

I tell him that I’m not that kind of vegetarian. 

Finally we arrive at his building, in the warm air.

The doorman grins like a stone pillar.

 

CRA

12/11/2006

9/19/2007