you smell like a white washing cloth
in the hands of my beautician
sometimes I don't recognise you
and sometimes you are just too far
then I have to have her hands
reminding me of how delicate the contour
of my own chin is
then at least I have a reference point
at least I know what it should feel like
you feel like a white washing cloth
in the hands of my beautician
it feels warm and familiar
it makes me sink into the place with no time
and after the make up is gone
I don't feel more naked in that presence
you smell like a white washing cloth
in the hands of my beautician
and I don't if I met you yet