Haphazard People

Mostly pretty ugly, pretty useless, pretty stupid,
not pretty at all.
But how can I discount them when unexpectedly
somebody kind, unreasonably wise, a vision of grace,
undeniably lovely.
How could we account for miracles, unlikely odds
coming through?
Random chaos is enough for human ingenuity
to engineer you or me, or any soldier joe
or social geek.
Who’s to say which or any of us is the freak?
I like my lovers half-crazed, bravely strong, and wonder-filled.
A true friend to cry with,
who then can laugh me out of my blues.
I like that she could choose,
and freely cleaves to me.
Haphazard people.
Collisions of lives.
What are the chances we might get it right?

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