last night we did face masks

pressing the wet paper sheets to our skins.
we'd bought them on the way out of target,
choosing each by their packaging colors.
i watched myself in the mirror to place
the mask just right. eyes emerging
from the two holes. mouth & nose
poking through openings. the mask 
obscured each detail. a table clothe
tossed over face. the light perfume 
of the oils. smelling like those white flower buds
we'd crush between thumb & finger
standing in the backyard as kids. 
then came the smell 
of a snapped watermelon 
& scent of fingers drumming
on something hollow. i stood there 
with my face hidden & watched you
do the same. stepping behind
a sweet curtain. we made jokes 
that when we peeled the masks off
our faces would be completely changed.
despite our efforts we couldn't 
imagine new faces on each other. 
we walked around the kitchen & the living room.
we checked the clock to see when 
ten minutes had passed & time moved slower
with the masks on. we leaned 
on the kitchen counter. i told you 
i wanted to feel relaxed & wondered 
what people did to feel that kind of 
loosening. i tried to just focus
on the mask's texture. 
that soft dripping
on each corner of my face.
flower petals stuck to skin.
face steeped in a lake water.
algae brushing the bridge of my nose.
a kind of floating. my face 
a new body of water with  a raft
pushed out into the middle. 
eyes as buoys waddling with each ripple.
i blinked my eyes open & 
there you were removing the sheet.
there was your same skin beneath
decorated with droplets. i wanted
to touch. dip my fingers into 
your surface. i joked 
i didn't recognize you as
i took mine off as well. texture lingering
on my skin. even as i lay in bed that night
i would feel that layer there. i would
want that kind of protection.
the thought that maybe the face 
is movable. a surface across which 
waves might pass. there's nothing wrong
with my face. i don't mind my face.
this is all about body & what
the writing on it means. i stop
on the bridge of my nose
to watch my eyes close.