Many years ago, before the dinosaurs turned to oil and Washington's army captured the airports, I was a nerdy, bookish high school student who often envied the "in crowd." I'm older now, if not necessarily wiser, and this poem by Dana Gioia speaks to me, then and now.
Pity the Beautiful
by Dana Gioia
Pity the beautiful,
the dolls, and the dishes,
the babes with big daddies
granting their wishes.
Pity the pretty boys,
the hunks, and Apollos,
the golden lads whom
success always follows.
The hotties, the knock-outs,
the tens out of ten,
the drop-dead gorgeous,
the great leading men.
Pity the faded,
the bloated, the blowsy,
the paunchy Adonis
whose luck's gone lousy.
Pity the gods,
no longer divine.
Pity the night
the stars lose their shine.
Have a good day and enjoy the rest of the long Fourth of July weekend. Monday will be here soon enough.
More thoughts coming.
Bilbo
It's kind of hard to pity the beautiful.
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