The Man Stares at His Own Face (Poem)

How strange to look upon yourself,
Behold your own features in the harsh overhead light
As you rotate your visage in your hand,
Trembling beneath foreign pressure

What is that expression there,
The expectant gaze as you see your own eyes for the first time,
The flecks of color you never noticed,
Or the twitch of the nose unfamiliar?

Who has the time to philosophize
When the truth stares back without feeble words?
Unshirted, uncharted, a peace offering
Is made to the stranger with your name.

-D.