Healing Poems 398

Everyone Was Beautiful

The day that everyone was beautiful
was like any other day, the only difference
was that everyone was beautiful and the day itself
was a beautiful summer day or spring day or
one of those late winter days that smells like spring
and if it was fall it was early fall
when it’s all but technically summer and everyone
was simply beautiful, not sexy beautiful
or movie star beautiful or drop dead gorgeous beautiful,
but everyone but everyone had this patina
of slightly bruised longing, this shimmer of
I think I knew you when we were children,
this look of I’ve loved you ever since you were born
and probably longer than that and it all started
with the paperboy careening out of the blue
dawn on his bicycle, pitching to the left and right
with his ballast of fifty today’s papers
in a vast canvas sack slung over his shoulder
balancing himself and the whole world
on the tip of morning, the streets beginning to stir
with shadows and workers and cars
all of which were perfectly beautiful,
and it continued on like that throughout the day
with the gas station attendant and toll collectors
and motorists and pedestrians and clerks—
even the boss, even the boss’s boss who always
seemed an ugly sort of fellow really, especially
on the inside. But on that day even the ugliness
was beautiful—it was a beautiful ugliness
the day that everyone was beautiful and the day itself
was a beautiful summer day.

~ Paul Hostovsky

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