& I've seen those porcelain dolls
they sell on TV at night
but yesterday
when I stood next to you
on the escalator
to the PATH, well,
when I looked at your face
& your almond shaped, sparkling eyes
& perfectly smooth skin
I thought I was looking
at a doll from the TV
& you were that dollface.
Your face is indescribably perfect.
It is perfect
but not the only face of perfect.
It always surprises me
that someone as beautiful as you
would ever talk to me, a gnome.
I'm no movie star.
I'm no rich man.
I'm old
with fat ankles
& lines in my face
& getting older
&, of course,
I mean nothing
by saying hello.
It's just that when you do
it's as though a ceramic doll
came to life & I am
Gepetto
or someone else
equally lucky.
I save words in my head
that travel well to paper,
& need glasses
to read what I wrote.
Your face, your cheeks
& yes, your eyes
remind me of photographs
I've seen of my mother
at about your age
& funny as it seems
my father once upon a time
called her dollface, too.
By Anthony Buccino
Copyright 2005, all rights reserved
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