The Salon by Lori Yamamoto

[Verse 1 - The Steam] The steam curling like smoke from the coffee cup. In the salon where the voices are not loud. But clear. Like the shakuhachi. [Verse 2 - The Costume] They wear the costume in the street. But here, in the salon, they do not wear the costume. Just... the skin. The truth. The tired feet. [Verse 3 - The Recognition] The recognition is like the steam. You see it. But you cannot catch it in your hand. Only in the heart. The body knowing first. [Verse 4 - The Word] Before the mind can say the word, the body knows. A small shift. A held breath. The eyes meeting. Then looking away. Then meeting again. [Verse 5 -The Economy] The economy of presence. Two people sitting. Not alone. But not two, either. Just... the space between. Where the soul is seen. [Verse 6 - The Seer] And the seer is changed. Just a little. Like steam that touches a cold window. It leaves a small mark. A handprint. Then it is gone. [Outro] The salon is quiet now. The coffee is finished. The steam has stopped. But the mark is still there. On the glass. On the heart. On the space between us. I did not catch it. But I felt it. That is enough. Okay.