Behold the ghoulish beauty,
the elegance we find
in everyday places:
tired rioters
holding each other up, exhaustion
exhumed from discarded weapons
of mass distrust;
the joyful egg
bounding through a flower bed
with the crack
of a breeze winding it forward;
the hungry musician
ensnaring a wheelbarrow, merely
a mistaken muse
inspiring labored hymns;
and me – I
sprint to a parking meter, a wild
armed mime escaping
from a box only I can see.