Underneath the Looking Gate

We met in Chicago by the stainless steel bean
You pointed out a cloud that resembled James Dean
We sat under the shiny legume shaped sculpture
Said that we were making time for culture

Beneath the omphalos we stood
Our reflections all bendy and weird
You took from your pocket a camera
And a bag of Jupiter’s Beard

I had a pocket full of green
And a picture postcard of the bean
I sprinkled tea leaves on the ground
Then three times I spun around

A funny little superstition
I picked up sometime ago
Why exactly I do it
I literally do not know

I have the Keys to Heaven you said
And made Red Valerian tea
Which I drank and fell asleep
Then dreamt of a giant bee

I was running very fast
But the bee flew quickly past
My feet stopped moving
As the bee was now grooving

I stood still and listened
To the beat playing in the trees
Some kind of music
That enlivens the bees

Am I dreaming now, I asked
To the humming blades of grass
Have I gone mad in the head
It was only the tea, they said

Then the flowers started talking
And the leaves began to sing
And I realised now that I could hear
Every single living thing

The river sang a lonely ballad
The trees whispered tales so sad
The flowers talked about girls in blue dresses
With funny manners and long blonde tresses

I awoke in the moonlight covered in silver
To find you singing a song
Something about metal flowers
It sounded slightly wrong

I sat and watched the sun as it rose
Dewdrops forming on my nose
A picture of a morning sky
Wondering what it would be like to fly

In the morning we drank strong coffee
And you ate toast with lots of honey
I thought of bees and then felt sick
Which you found odd and rather funny

We went skating and I fell down twice
You said my ice bruised knees were nice
So I kicked you once and then over again
Until I’d counted up to ten

In Lurie Garden you played your guitar
And the people they came from afar
To tell you to stop that awful sound
Before they beat you into the ground

So then in silence we sat awhile
You said sulking wasn’t your style
But smashing your guitar in a moment of fury
Told me quite a different story

We had a picnic with cheese and wine
And the music then was rather divine
A man beside us playing the harp
Though I found your response a little sharp

A scuffle ensued between the musicians
In not the most ideal fighting conditions
You squashed the cheese and spilled the wine
So I looked at my watch and loudly called time

Twenty-four hours we spent together
In which you managed to anger seven different men
Despite the fun we had in our time
We probably won’t be meeting again

We had some fun and we had some laughs
We took some blurry photographs
In another world we’d be perfect together
But meeting once was better than never

You shook my hand and walked me back to Cloud Gate
Apologising again for being so late
That’s the end of it, was all I could say
All in all, it was a nearly perfect day

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