like beauty often does. We,
who are far less beautiful,
buzz around like bees in front of It,
vying for Its affection.
It knows we won’t get anywhere, we
know we won’t get anywhere, but we
keep trying until Beauty stands up
and walks away, so beautifully of course.
In the opposite direction we
begin filing out, experienced, battered
refugees of love whom you can count
on to keep coming back.
Beauty Sits at the Table