Aurora

We waited for an hour or two
that Sunday afternoon,
crossing the tracks
at the Aurora Metra station
because of the construction.

I didn't know.
I swear I didn't know
that entire week
would be the end of us.

It was hot that day;
we escaped by slipping inside
the concourse
with its sticky floors
and vending machines
and the water fountain the janitor
warned my son about.

Who knew at 10 that night
when the fireworks went off
above Navy Pier
their splendor, their noise
would be our swan song?