He says: you are challenging.

I remember as I am stopped at a green light
a woman parked in traffic
******* resting
indifferently along the edge of her window.

She wore her hair in a single knotted bun.
I flip my rear view mirror towards myself and
think how similar our reflections
must have seemed this morning.

I see this woman.
She instills confidence within each of my
greying baby hairs
too wily to be tamed by pins or other measures

Like every hair on my body
that remains too black, too think.

You are so challenging, he says through too straight teeth.

I remember the metal cage and its particular feel along my gums.

And while I hold gaze
at this perfect woman
who does not notice the rays
of sun and its mellow glow
floating above her shoulders

I move my tongue to the brim of my lips
where I still hold memories of
prayers for perfect, straight teeth in
scar tissue of a mouth
that indifferently held its position.

Cup after cup.

From the bottom of a well
lined with discarded mugs from
memorabilia shops
I strain my eyes
and through my tangled eyelashes
I fight for vision between sun rays.

The world might always smell like
coffee gone cold.

Atop oil stained concrete
A fast food employee
Wears a headset
Takes out the trash

And god is an eloquent *****
She paints freckles on his face
A cigarette in his hand

It's just that your eyelashes
catch the wind and shadows
across your face.

And I can't help
but to think to myself
that God gave us cheek bones
so we may lay across this field
and I could look up to you
through the sunlight.