Portrait in White

Outside the store I see a woman.

The store’s name is Beauty Supply, and I think
Beauty Supply? Beauty Supply.
There has been construction on this block for months but I
+++++never see men working.

I consult, again, the sign:

BEAUTY SUPPLY

*100% Human Hair *Cosmetic *Beauty Aid  *Electrical Supply 

The woman
wears a lime green wig, covered
her face all in white

like a kabuki show, or
like a lady at the masquerade. Something anonymous about it.
Something formal and physical, and reminding you,
yes, to be still in your body can be quite painful;

also, to be known is to be culpable,
and despite what you might have read having a body is not
+++++arbitrary.

How could it be, if dressing up is so much fun?
You do look like you’re having fun. Apologies if I’m wrong.

You know, my uncle works for the city sometimes.
He throws events for special days.
He told me once they hired Mexican dancers for the Israeli Day
+++++Parade.

You see me see you.
I look at the time, down and away.

I was saying good-bye. I was writing down everything.