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The Windy City
11
footsteps of the jungle,
the fang cry, the rip claw hiss,
the slant of the slit eyes waiting.
Forgive us if we work so hard
And the muscles bunch clumsy on us
And we never know why we work so hard —
If the big houses with little families
And the little houses with big families
Sneer at each other's bars of misunderstanding;
Pity us when we shackle and kill each other
And believe at first we understand
And later say we wonder why.
Take home the monotonous patter
Of the elevated railroad guard in the rush hours:
"Watch your step. Watch your step. Watch your step."
Or write on a pocket pad what a pauper said
To a patch of purple asters at a whitewashed wall:
"Let every man be his own Jesus — that's enough."
6
The wheelbarrows grin, the shovels and the mortar hoist an exploit.
The stone shanks of the Monadnock, the Transportation, the People's Gas Building, stand up and scrape at the sky.
The wheelbarrows sing, the bevels and the blue prints whisper.
