Star-crossed Lovers

Two neighborhoods, both alike with baseball teams
(in fair Chicago where I lay my scene).
From where grudge between the White Sox and Cubs
has broken to a new rivalry.
On the Cubs’ north is where I live
and on the south with the Sox is where my heart is.

You and I are not supposed to be.
Everyone asks me what I
see in you,
but it’s everything that you are.
I love your scent, your uniforms,
and the souvenirs you have for me.
They say we don’t belong,
that we cannot be together.
Some try to keep us apart,
but we are star-crossed lovers.

You make the best hotdogs, but
I am sorry I never eat them with your famous onions.
I always ask for your funnel cakes,
and ever since I’ve known you,
I have asked for your legendary ice creams in the mini baseball helmets.
I always watch the “pizza races” and the “hat trick”
on your jumbo-tron television.

Even when you make an error,
when you drop the ball on us,
I remember,
you are my Romeo and I your Juliet.
My home in the north and
your home in the south
will be torn when they see our love.
No matter who we hurt, we will be with each other,
day and night.

Let’s hit one out of the park.
We’ll watch the fireworks paint the sky
and feel the sparks fly,
together,
a Capulet and a Montague,
a northsider and a southsider.