Every time we chance to meet,
you look familiar, nothing new –
that plain, unremarkable face,

so I need to look in the mirror
to make sure all is still on track,
that no eyebrow has strayed,

eyebags dangling from my elbow,
knees ironed and folded,
the neck baked, waiting for lace,

hands kneading the morning,
all past sleepless lives forgiven.
Let me at least offer you tea.