The common weal, meaning the body
politic, the well-being of an entity or state.
The state capital, a Sunday in spring: streets
where, even late in this century, I don't
see too many with my same face. Perhaps
transients and students are gone on break.
Perhaps, dark-skinned ones like me are careful
to avoid spaces where rebel flags with seven
stars still whip high in the wind, shameless
declaration and misplaced belief that all men
are not created equal. But surely you've walked
past the homeless on the avenue, stopped to listen
to buskers at the train station take a sad song
and make it better, through chipped teeth and smiles.


