SEEING WITH MY FACE

My dad says, when I was little-girl-Bobbi Jae, I used to get frustrated when people didn't listen to me. In an attempt to get people's attention, my plea went something like this: "Look your face!"

I'm sharing another poem I'm working on with you, lovely blog readers. I'm stuck on a bit of a "face" theme, it would seem. But, maybe I've always been quite taken with faces and wondering a bit about my own. I still get nervous putting these little word creations up here, but you don't seem to mind and some of you have been wonderfully encouraging.

Thanks for looking your face.

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THANK GOD FOR MY NEW FACE

What I’m wondering today is if God snuck up on me and
changed my face for another
when I wasn’t looking. It seems that people
like me more, and I don’t really
know why.

My sister says she doesn’t see
a big difference in the way my face
looks. She would know. I think this face is
half hers. She said that as I grow (or shrink) there might be
more confidence, but I don’t look all that different. Or so
she says.

But what was up with the guy who
slowed his car down today as I jaywalked across
Fraser St? He slowed down just to ask me
if I wanted to smoke a joint with him. Strange new
happenings that merit some thought, don’t you think? Like I
don’t think enough.

And then there was the man at my favourite coffee
shop. I noticed him as I walked in because he
looked the part of the neighborhood: greying hair
ruffled in perfect cool, dark glasses and dark
clothes (like me). Our bits of conversation wove into
a real one. Lots of life shared in an hour.

And as I walk home through the streets that feel
a bit like my sheets, I’m still wondering: did
God swap my face for another
when I wasn’t looking? It seems people like me more
these days, and I don’t even know why.