July Thursday Night

There is a beauty to all people
To which we must cling
In ugly moments
When our hearts hijack our mouths
And we speak symbolically but hear literally

Later, he was powerless on the street
Without even the words to beg
And wanting arson or intervention
Someone on his exact and only side
His side, not ours, or family, or humanity
To be listened to and hear in return
As soft voices work a compromise
The shouting reserved for moments of depth and passion

Remember that day? I walked down the street, and cried when she came along
who said nothing, but was both pond and bridge

He crossed over that day
For a few seconds

Regardless of mule-ish work
And mutual angry silence
beauty must be found

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