Having walked this path so often
hurried and with frustration
cloaking my sight with grey hue
I found it strange that today
I would see the placement of your
bags as art
The coordinates of your body
placed purposefully in the middle
of the sidewalk
Fibonacci bags, gentle seashells
you were art, against the hot cement
and I
wanted to thank you
Having walked this path so often
The aggressive pull of the human and inhuman
startled me today
I could hardly believe i hadn't noticed it before
All of us masterpieces in our imperfection
Perhaps I could use the word Beauty
to describe the sight of the
woman in heavy makeup sailing
down the street high and therefore
still living
Perhaps it is the pull that makes us art
the pain of resistance and surrender
Or are we all born this way
moving statues of stark hues
amassed from bits
and pieces of distant stars
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