All those Endearing Young Charms

The young man reaches out
And gives a gal a hand
She smiles with full lips and brilliant teeth
Her pencil-lined, spotlight blues
Beaming with genuine gratitude
Not just for the help
Getting her and her uncooperative Free-stride
Over the too-steep curb
But because she can tell
He really sees her

He's wearing compatible Gear
So she knows he can really see her
Subconsciously, she reaches
To adjust the jacket
Of her WAVES uniform
Then remembers it's not really there
Just her default skin
Because she always looked so good in it

He guides her up
And his Gear suggests to him
That her hand is soft and firm
Somewhere in the background
Her heads-up profile displays
That she's well into her 90's
He knows. He gets it.
But the real point was made
When his head turned and saw
What she chose for him to see

Her smart vintage uniform
Proportioned for another generation
With her hat off to one side
And her curls dark
Like Nora Charles, off to do her part
All telling him, and those who can see
That back when she was becoming who she became
She was a looker

She says "Thank you"
In a voice he perceives through the filter
As smooth and steady
He returns her smile
And means it
With a polite nod he moves along
Into whatever else his eyes show him

She always sets her appearance this way
Though her friends roll their eyes
Watching the men with the right Gear
The women too
Turning their heads
But all her friends can see
Or choose to see
Is some old lady
Who shouldn't mess around with kid's toys

Those of the boys that are still left
Who still remember those someday girls
They play with kid's toys too
And when they see her coming
Looking like a bright young thing
Just nursing a bad leg
They stand up and give a salute
To the last of the pin-up girls

Once, a young wounded vet
Back from the new wars
And wearing the right Gear
Pushed his sharp, new Free-stride up to her's
"Were you wounded in the War?" he asked.
It was the sweetest thing she'd ever heard
If some purple heart had used that line
Once upon a time
It would have worked

The last of the pin-up girls
Can finally tell all the old stories
Without her audience fading off
In the distance of disinterest
Fresh eyes, clear skin, and a sweet voice
Do wonders to banish neglect

She's not offended that they pay better attention
That they look
Or why they look
She's done enough looking and being looked at
Enough not looking and not being looked at
To have thought it all through
And besides, nothing's stopping her
From just turning off her Gear
And breaking the spell

The odd part about how she seems
Is how people forget she's forgetful
Even though she speaks the same words
Even though she still pauses, lost
And sheepishly apologizes
They just smile, and say it happens to them too
Because it does
Then they keep on talking to her
In normal adult tones
At normal adult volumes

Down at the old war museum where she volunteers
They come to hear the pretty young storyteller
From long-long ago
They've had to bring in chairs
Since she got the new Gear
For the crowds of children and parents
Old vets and academics
Listening to her spool out her memories

Maybe the illusion flickers sometimes
A crack in her seeming
And they hesitate
As if she might suddenly turn transparent
Like a chance encounter with an apparition
And abruptly vanish in the middle of her rounds

Which she will

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Audio: Endearing Young Charms