The buildings tower

Over the streets

Crawling with people.

Wind barrels up 

And down the 

Streets, hitting

Pedestrians unexpectedly.

People run across the roads

Without looking,

Setting off a chain reaction

Of honking horns

And squealing tires.

You will never see 

Two people who look alike

Here. 

Red, black, white, or polka-dotted,

You will find them

Here, 

In Chicago.