In a store overrun with shoppers
and mother's dragging their
cranky toddler's through the
midday check-out lines, she
stands out like a tattooed biker
in a beauty contest. Is it her
intent? I've often wondered.
Each week her hair a different
flamboyant color, eyebrows drawn
on in matching pencil in a perfect
posture of complete surprise and obnoxious
red lipstick outlining her lip's contours
far beyond their natural design.
Dressed in clothing as bizarre as her
make-up, surely she must be unaware
her rounded folds tend to be
exaggerated by a vast degree.
Often I've watched and wondered
why this woman would hide her
apparent natural beauty
beneath such an outrageous mask.
As head cashier she busies herself
making change and keeping the lanes
of consumer traffic flowing as
smoothly as the fat, black liner
serenading her purple eyelids.
She seems friendly enough, although
a smile seems a stranger to her face.
Once - she looked up at me and
hidden beneath her tar coated
tentacles were the most incredible,
sad blue eyes.
A curious spectator again today,
I watch as she reluctantly moves
through her day. Ahead of me she
assists an infectious, young couple;
Amorous and attentive, they ooze
from the pages of a romance novel.
Turning away...I hide my amusement.
Turning away...a black tear streams down her face.
I've always been fascinated with why people
hide behind walls or put on masks to hide
what's inside of them. This poem is about
a real person whom I've seen and wondered
about for a very long time. I'd still love
to know what pains she hides behind her mask.
