There is an unusual
Though much needed
Sunshine pouring out
Over the city
Michigan Ave. is mine
For a block or two at least
And for a moment, I feel
A part of it all
As if I were crawling
Up Miss America's skirt
Surprised not to be
Brushed away
By a gloved hand
And a southern squeal
It only takes a moment
To see why
To see the bruises
On her knees
These days, they've substituted
Roll after roll
Of brown kraft paper
For bandages
These days, everyone appears
To be searching for air
Trapped outside and pressed
Behind glass
It doesn’t take long to see
She'd take anyone
For a lover
Even me
And I'm not looking
To begin with
