Sunset.

Something draws me to this city.

Minne: Water

Water is moving life--it draws you in; it pulls you under; it baptizes, renews, rejuvenates. Water powered the mill that went up in smoke; water catches in the cracks of the stone arch bridge, water falls on a hundred thousand faces looking up.  Water traces this city to the next; laughing river, father of rivers, dancing down 94.  Water races you to the capitol and then dares you to run back.

Apolis: City

It is a thousand Greek men stacking blocks toward the heavens; it is where we gather; it is the heart; it is ever-beating.  Someone once told me that history's tallest buildings tell tales of what is most valued. Church steeples have far been surpassed; Foshay is in the shadows of nameless giants the skeptics say sing songs of dollars and climbing but I don't see it.  They are tan and blue and grey, not green.  They are beauty, they are success, they are lit up at night with a presence any romantic could not woe.

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Every evening like ants thousands scurry out on the highways; out, toward the suburbs, away, while I drive in.  The city is not their solace but mine; I drive toward, I drive in, I drive there, toward the dirty and the broken and the beautiful city that keeps laughing, laughing and flowing, the river colors, brilliantly lit up from behind with a setting sun that makes it dance and say, Come here. 


Come and get lost in me; I do not know your name, but you are one of my million, you are here, you can look, come hide and play; all are welcome in the Water City; come home. My home.  My Minneapolis.