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I wore lipstick under my mask,
Forgetting smiles are hidden now.
Except in the eyes. They still hold everything.
But people don’t often look you in the eyes.
And when they do, they don’t usually see.
Smiles are essential when greeting others.
Good manners won’t suffer anything less.
My mouth can’t help but curve upward even in hiding.
Hope skips counterpoint to each heartbeat at every encounter.
Crow’s feet crinkle in greeting every chance they get.
Yet, more than ever invisibility envelops me like a cloak.
No magic. Just the world refusing to notice.
Except when you cough…
Grandpa said handshakes make a man, or woman.
Six feet is a grave distance.
Still, I wear lipstick.
