Well, Well, Back in the Ol' Chicago

the women in Chicago are gorgeous,
all hardwork and flirt,
practical clothing and pop culture knowledge,
no bangs and no bullshit. 

last evening I met an Evelyn
and fell in love with the back of her teeth,
as well as the backs of her knees;
she made me laugh, that's why.

the poet/musician Marvin Tate
introduced us at a party,
and I started off poorly,
by telling her I don't always write sad poems. 

but she was no nonsense,
and we have been texting non-stop ever since;
she gets my dumb dad jokes,
even doesn't mind I am a dad.

we made out like teens
that first dream-like night
on Ontario and Wabash,
she shivered in her Northwestern sweater.

we'll see where it goes,
and I hope it goes 
to dinner and movies 
and memories to replace other memories.

with plans to go 
to Lincoln Park Zoo
and feed the giraffes,
I am ecstatic for Saturday. 

she is texting me 
as I write this meta poem,
and my ears are ringing,
so maybe I should invite her to Melrose Park.