By Jennifer N. Kurdyla

This face has less
character than those around it. There,
fine grooves have been etched
in a pattern that give away

an important habit. A handsome
facet of personality, worn proud
and hard to duplicate, easy
to pick out in a crowd.

And that one, there, must be young
at heart, if not in age. To embrace
modernity with polished indifference.
No creases of fret about the means

necessary to support such delicate
(But perhaps it is no
burden at all—perhaps it only
shows on the inside, which is all

that matters, after all.) You know,
living among such company would
be hard elsewhere—someplace with
far fewer faces.


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