Sometimes I smile underneath my mask and show my teeth (though no one can see them).
I grin big, wiggle my jaw, and plump and press my lips together, kissing soft cotton.
Then I pass you on the frozen street and my lips drag towards my chin.
I turn to trace your steps but the city or the street or the snow swallowed you and the whites of my knuckles have turned red.
I turn back and hit my stride. Lifting the corners of my mouth, I smile and chuckle.
