The girl at the booth across from mine
waited until I was all packed up
on the last day of the bookfair
to hand me her portrait of me
and she didn’t miss a detail.
Here is my lazy overgrown hair
my mustache and soul patch
two-day stubble speckling my face
my literary glasses framing
either blank or thoughtful eyes
peeking out under bushy eyebrows.
as my cheeks round out
my non-neck in a button-up collar.
Here I recognize myself
not as a was
but as a becoming.