Each city has a pulse
its streets veins,
its denizens
white and red blood cells
moving up and down the arteries
of public transit,
its blood pressure
the waxing waning
metropolistic tension
which citizens come to intuit
like prophetic tea leaves,
its heart rate
the oscillating metronome
of potential dangers
and prospective pleasures
splayed out on the public way.
One municipal organism
unified by struggle and desire
under the capricious
Chicago Pantheon.
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