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Looking for Carl Sandburg

almost one hundred years
after your Chicago apologetic
i am searching for century-old signs of the city
rushing to see them in a few too-short days
when it is bundled in 
cloud and rain and mist and fog
but the bold Big Shoulders are still there
braced against that famous wind
cocooning the brash and brazen young man
defiantly declaring the city as a
titan of industry

but still
on street corner after street corner
the polite poor sing to the city
jangling coins in paper cups
pauper islands in a luxurious sea of
business – industry – culture

almost one hundred years on
looking for signs of your city
i finally sense a shadow of you
sauntering down a grey sidewalk
in the mist and fog
your charcoal coat open – flapping
in the wind
your grey-white hair swept sideways
in that gentlemanly style

yet you are only almost visible
like a water-thin reflection or 
a film of clouds backlit by 
the inconstant moon

your steel eyes ponderous
your lips a solid line
the words to call your name
are as much an apparition as you
disappearing around the corner
a wraith in the mist

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