out of context

you clean up well,
she says,
running into one of
your clients in
a bar, she looks
you over from
shoe to head.
she has never seen you
without a bucket
and brush, a pole,
a spackling knife
in your hand.
caulking stuck to
your arm, your pants.
your face speckled
with fresh white
paint. she hardly knows
what to say,
thinking he might
actually be human.