A Familiar Face

Faces, except for a few lines,
look the same until I become
familiar with the jaw line,
as well as the patterns of
wrinkles around the eyes and lips.

I can recognize
him standing in a line
out of hundreds of men

because the lines of his silhouette are
so familiar, the breadth of his shoulders,
the thickness of his thighs,
and shape of his hands

Because he is adorned with ink
I can draw the tattoos
I've traced so many times.

When he is angry I know two lines
will appear between his brows
and the lines of his smile still cause
my heart to beat faster.

His profile, if only a silhouette
is as easy to recognize
as a photograph.

Long or cut short, his hairline
changes his look but not
the lines of his face,

the familiar face
I've kissed a thousand
times, and recognize
with my fingertips.