She's Chicago

The summer months is when everything opens up.
She wears short shorts,
Tank-tops,
Flip-flops,
And her hair in a ponytail.
Money hides in her hand
While her phone is in her back pocket.
Every day,
After waking up at noon,
She aboards the Blue Line.
Once she’s off,
She takes a personal tour.
She can tell who’s a tourist.
They all have cameras in their hands
And walk extremely slow.
She stopped bringing a camera
Since she’s seen everything multiple times.
Sometimes she visits museums.
Sometimes she walks along the beach.
She’s constantly fanning herself
As she feels the sweat slide down her face.
She enters the stores
She doesn’t have enough money for
And listens to the multiple languages being spoken.
On good days,
She walks across the sets of commercials
And even movies.
After checking her reflection in the Bean,
Which she always forgets has another name,
She gets a hot dog without ketchup.
She may even get deep-dish pizza.
On the side,
She gets a can of pop,
And takes her meal to the harbor.
From there, she watches the boats
Swim away into the sunset,
And then she watches the lights of the buildings
Snap on one by one,
Creating the famous skyline
Shown in almost every photograph of her home.