Kept feeling that there must be . . . much more here

More than met my wondering ear, my grey observing eye

(and other eyes and ears, no doubt? from all us silent clientele)

Just didn't get it, and so felt somewhat crazed myself

Not that I like the masks, or find them all that flattering

Not that I relish being told what I must do

Or being caught out, shamed, corrected publicly

(even being talked to, addressed by strangers, in these trying times)

but still, this special kind of plea, such a contextual request

especially with today's dark news of rampant Omicron. . .

and followed up by sad reveal of added vulnerability

how could anyone, anyone at all, keep on saying no?

there must have been some other thing in play

don't know what exactly, not gender, not age

race maybe? or culture? style? or..? dunno, dunno

it just was strange and sad

I mean, sexy had a mask, was wearing one

A mask that matched her vampy look, even

just had it pushed below her handsome chin

Was only being asked to tweak it up. . . .

And had done so, at once, when owner told her to

so, she was mask compliant, in some ways?

so, not a classic anti-masking type?

so . . . so what? sew buttons, I dunno

So, I asked the short one to move up in the line

to take my place — she demurred, but when I pressed,

said it could shrink indoor exposure time, she stepped ahead

(talk about pathetic, what gratifies us now) seemed a little pleased