By Jessica Titlebaum
The beat is so strong it could bring you to tears.
A vibration in the Windy City.
Crowds shuffle down Michigan Avenue,
Police in blue uniforms stand in front of the Art Institute,
The one with the lions, I always say,
the museum lit in Red, White and Blue.
“5-dollar T-shirts…5-dollar T-shirts...,” says a man walking by.
T-shirts, stickers, hats and buttons…
A man in a white, long-sleeve shirt and vest plays the Saxophone.
He stands on the corner of Monroe and Michigan.
Another man shakes a rattle,
playing to the emotions of passersby.
Two men with press passes around their neck.
Where are you from?
“Lithuania,” one of them says as he moves along.
A man with angel wings in white,
his face painted. He stands on roller skates.
A woman in an Obamapalooza shirt asks to take a picture with him.
A hippie with long hair and glasses stands alone
He holds a cardboard sign:
“Deadheads Unite for Obama.”
The Parking garage on Michigan and Jackson has been converted:
“Obama Presidential Rally Parking.”
Congress Hotel and Roosevelt University shine in the dark.
“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” says a blonde man.
He puts his arm around the woman next to him.
In the air, there is an electricity.
It waves the American flags that decorate the night sky.
Two small children in oversized Obama shirts throw a Frisbee.
They are accompanied by their father who sits next to them,
watching the crowd gather in the field.
An older man with grey hair on his cell phone, walks, talks:
“I was here in Grant Park when Obama was elected…
I am here as history is being made.”
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