by Gracie Jones
You lean in—
our noses almost touch
as you fog the glass
between us.
Your features shift,
melting into the mist.
The familiar smile
ripples, loosens
until you become
unrecognisable.
With one finger
you carve your mask
into the haze:
poking two eyes,
a little nose,
a wobbly grin.
Then stare across,
through what you’ve made
a changed man.