If I ever moved away,
this is what I would miss about you, Chicago . . . .
I’d miss the way you uncurl
summer like a snake hissing.
I’d miss the way you loiter in winter
like the guys in Union 126
who hang on the bar after work
but don’t know when to leave.
I’d miss the way you smell
of lilacs in April, of hot dogs
and exhaust fumes on an August night,
or beer and brats on the barbecue
when the moon tells its sins
in confession, and the Bean
flaunts her warped secrets
to anyone who’ll listen.
–excerpt from “Missing” in To Sip Darjeeling at Dawn by Donna Pucciani (Virtual Artists Collective 2011). First published in River Oak Review.