On the train and a woman stops me
I read her face
Poorly, I admit

Asks me something
In a language I couldn’t hear
Told her I didn’t know
Through my mask,
I must seem insincere

She spoke some more
In hopes of translations  
Be made clear
No I said
I don’t think we have
the same idea

She takes her mask off
The surgical protege
Falls to the ground
As if exposing her story
Unravelled, naked and austere

Asks me the same question
For a third time
Words seem different when spoken
By someone that’s near

I snap the ribbon from the back of my ear
The look on this woman’s face
I must be the first face she’s seen in days