The Beautiful People

The beautiful people
Ware spandex and jewels
Move with grace
Smile as if on parade
Making everything
Seem so much more
Beautiful

Even their sweat smells
Healthier
It must be a food thing

The membership
To the Attractive world
A bonus from work
Seemed dubious
At first

The YMCA
Had been my home

They took me on a tour
Asked if I needed
A personal trainer
A massage
Lifestyle guidance

When I told them
I just needed a shower
And a steam
To wash away
The weight of life

Raised eyebrows
Left me wondering
If a vagabond poet
Belonged
In the world
Of privileged narcissism

I talked to Psycho Bob
Asked his opinion

I wish I had
A colorful nickname
Something worthy
Of outer
Presentation

Maybe Grease Pit
Or
Crapshoot Willy

Alas

Nothing seems to stick
My own name
Giving me insight
Into circumstance
Will have to do

Psycho Bob told me
People like us
Don’t belong in that world
We have our own
Different brand of beauty

Something that
The Beautiful People
Can judge
Their exquisiteness by

He didn’t use the word
Exquisite

But it dawned on me
It’s good to be of service
So I showed up
Unshaven
Stinking of cigarettes
Grease and gasoline

Dirty sweat pants
And a cap
That hasn’t been washed
Since I bought it
Lest it lose its character

No one noticed
No one cared
Beauty it seems
Stays glued
To the ever present mirrors