Beauty

A search for the lid of plastic container this a.m. segued into a conversation about beauty and attraction. The details are lost to me now, some hours later, but I recall an incident from yesterday:
Hurrying up Hurontario on the way to work last night, an SUV pulled out right in front of me to turn left.The guy in the right lane had stopped, apparently to let this person out, so I was on guard. Still, I blasted my horn because it was stupid move, and the very pretty girl at the wheel flashed a 'sorry' smile at me. This would not have happened if the driver had been unattractive, old or heavy.
It's an age-old question, I know, but why does beauty always make its way so easily? Don Marquis got it right in his 'archy' poem, 'the hen and the oriole':
well boss did it
ever strike you that a
hen regrets it just as
much when they wring her
neck as an oriole but
nobody has any
sympathy for a hen because
she is not beautiful
while every one gets
sentimental over the
oriole and says how
shocking to kill the
lovely thing this thought
comes to my mind
because of the earnest
endeavor of a
gentleman to squash me
yesterday afternoon when i
was riding up in the
elevator if i had been a
butterfly he would have
said how did that
beautiful thing happen to
find its way into
these grimy city streets do
not harm the splendid
creature but let it
fly back to its rural
haunts again beauty always
gets the best of
it be beautiful boss
a thing of beauty is a
joy forever
be handsome boss and let
who will be clever is
the sad advice
of your ugly little friend
archy