Chicago
Chicago.
Wish you were here.
Walk with me in my heart, My Love...
I was expecting more noise on a Saturday night,
But the wind wasn't even up.
(I was expecting more wind, too! First time here.)
But the only sound is down by the Lake,
Two Hispanic girls riding bicycles with their brother,
Gaily chattering in Spanish.
This is the only music on the Lake,
But there is other music,
Deep in my Heart, and in my muscles, and in my bones...
Spinning like Cycles of Light, and Wheels of Sound.
The Chicago Symphony Orchestra echoes in all of me.
Beethoven, Bruckner...
And HAITINK.
Bernard Haitink is an old world all by himself,
A man who has seen Glory!
He has listened to her beating Heart,
And has heard her wild and focused Voice like a horn calling out in the
darkness
Glory rings in every cell of his body,
Every time he moves, or breathes, or even shakes...
He fell from the podium the night before, and we thought we had lost him,
But tonight! He is back!
Walking with a cane until intermission, when he refuses,
Perhaps, because it will be his last time conducting in America...
God, GOD! WHO could contain all that emotion?
What Bruckner suffered, Haitink knows,
And what Beethoven dreamed, Haitink has heard in the night...
And after Bruckner, the skyline...
A dark veil dropped down behind it,
And all lit up in blue and white and violet
And Arthur grumbles,
Because he wants
To swim a mile in Lake Michigan,
And the New Law
Will not let him...
What else to say?
There is a feeling of pink
That is in the air,
And the people are warm,
Once they drop guards,
And open,
And that's the best part.
That's Chicago.
Wish you were here, My Love!
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