Chicago Stories’ Puzzler is taking this month off.
In its place is “A Poem for the Month,” one of my recent poems,
usually on a topic of interest in Chicago or something having taken place here.
The light-bathed, glass veranda
welcomes you to lunch high above
sparkling yellow leaves lining the
bronze River winding through
a Miesian canyon,
gently suggesting that
You order wine. Chardonnay.
Peruse the menu absent Soup du Jour,
Buffalo Wings, Miniature Crab Cakes.
Fall for the mysterious Toasted Corn Bread Pudding ,
Spicy Shrimp, with Warm Pico de Gallo,
Luscious crisp round crust encasing
supreme soft pudding smoothness
that seeks out every suggestible
corner of your mouth. In time,
add a sip of wine,
senses singing out a chorus
of rhapsodic tingle and attitude.
Another bite, into beautiful
copper grilled shrimp, begs that
the moment never end.
Pause, return to pudding,
shrimp and wine,
The wine settles on your pallet, and you
are the wondrous being
you’ve suspected of yourself
all these years.
You can do anything.
Anything at all, especially the never-before.
Gazing out your back window,
re-tasting the moment,
Chopin turned low, settle back
in your first, most perfect nap.
Copyright© Larry Ambrose