Jelly Roll

Great splats salt the boulevard.
Chicago shrugs its shoulders
Traffic and commerce rhythmic
In pursuit of capital.

Warm summer rain drives me
Into a fragrant bakery
Rich, sweet smells rising
Like mist off the lake.
Around me, conversation buzzes
Like Joseph’s many-colored coat.

I smooth a bill into the baker’s hand
Buying a jelly roll
As rent for a stool by the window.

On the rain-silvered street
Horns protest
Tires sigh
And umbrellas sprout
Like mushrooms
From the forest floor.

Where are you?
I wonder if the same rain
Pelts us.
I hope so.
It makes the world feel smaller
The distance between us
Less large.

Too soon the clouds brighten
The rains ease
And my jelly roll is eaten.
Time again to assault the streets
That remove me further away.

Always away and never toward.