Meeting My Cousin
I've seen photos of us when we were four:
Round glasses, sandy pigtails, matching grins
and nylon coats to guard against the wind
of the small seaside town where we were born.
Now she wears contacts, eyeliner and lace
while I still wear my glasses and old jeans.
She's dating someone I have never seen.
In this steel-shiny airport terminal,
she moves to hug me, bird-boned, chirpy, small,
a blood relation with a stranger's face.