Windy City Beachfront

Impotent waves from Lake Michigan
stroll onto the shores of Chicago like
tossed horseshoes from old men.

Children form makeshift castles.
Wet dogs smell like Lollapalooza kids.

The sun shines down on a crowd,
a lure sparkling enough to attract
a school of freshwater fish.

Boats on the horizon cut through vision.
Appearing as works of outsider art as we
sit, always too high, with mixed drinks
never out of reach.

The muscle-heads are out there cursing
the rising price of SPF 40, parking tickets.

Burn or wait for traffic to die down?