you look familiar

it is strange
seeing people out
of context.
the school teacher
in line
with milk
and bread,
a copy of
the enquirer on
the belt.
your neighbor
who you've
only waved to
from a distance
of a hundred
feet
suddenly
next to you
at the post office
buying
stamps
for a small box
she's holding
under her arm.
then there's the
dancer from
the gentlemen's
club
on the other side
of town,
in church
getting communion
not wearing
her heels or
platinum blonde
wig.