Chance Meeting

by Anne Hiltner

what masks we wear
when we show our public face
make-up stiff like bacon grease
cupping a mouth to stifle a frown
if introductions have gone wrong
when two people meet
a prospective other

until the masks we wear
are medical and we must rely
on vocal sound, muttering at
what she said, or nodding
rapidly – message understood
a conversation barely audible
when two people meet
in a crowded hall

eyes peering out over visors
like musket balls, faces 
hardly visible behind the masks
communicating by furrowed brow
or staring like red traffic lights
two strangers meeting
a prospective other

talking through the gauze
about what Covid has caused
the latest weather forecast
the movie they liked the most
how pleasant the evening is
until one pulls the string
holding hidden lips within
the other smiling under cotton skin
both speechless but smitten