Cleaved cleft chins, white teeth, braces, pink watermelon lipgloss, and beards all seem ridiculous these days. Behind a mask there’s no way to shine a smile of gratitude to a shop clerk or for someone’s kindness in holding open a door. We look plastic in polarized soundless shock. The cranes fly overhead in t-formations migrating from and to places I never studied and to think about it those birds I knew, birds where I’ve been basking in year’s outside. We live in the same warmth that those millions of million year old northerners calved their ill suited families to drag suitcases behind them. Straining and scraping down all the front porch stairs while waiving goodbye wearing dry dirt colored corduroys and flag striped mock tops. Masking the sounds of the dead floorboards as winter draws nearer, I cracked my knuckles on hands divided by savage time.