You are incredible. You are unstoppable. Where are you even going? Damn, you are fierce. How do you do what you do with such precision? I can hardly stand on this moving train steadily on my two feet with rubber soled shoes.
I sway to and fro, stepping on the toes of other passengers, apologizing sheepishly, spilling coffee on my blouse before I even get to work. Oh, you’re sitting, that makes it easier? Please, do not sell yourself short. I cannot even sit well. I shift in my seat with each bump of the train. Elbowing the woman reading her daily Bible passages in the side or whip-lashing the man reading A Song Of Ice And Fire with the string of my earbud.
You, however, you’re steady. You’re exact. Liquid eyeliner from inner to outer corner. Wing tip. I see you connect the lines from 130 degrees and make a cat eye so sharp it could scratch the eyes out of any seething onlooker.
I don’t know what you did last night that you’re in such a rush. I don’t know if this is a part of your routine but the way you line your lips in two quick traces, while I remember how I fussed in front of my vanity, redrawing line after line and carefully removing smudge after smudge, makes me furious and covetous.
You know exactly how to do it. You know exactly what to do. You’re unembarrassed exposition of what goes on behind the scenes of every woman (and some men’s) backstage production is reckless and strong. There’s no compartmentalization, no shying away, you declare it in the very act of smacking the tissue between you lips: women have many faces.
[Shutterstock/ kiuikson ]