Sherman Alexie - Scarlet lyrics

The barista's acne is torrential— A perfect storm. Whatever potential She has for beauty has been obscured By the open wounds that resemble burns. And yet, as I look closer, I can see This young woman is quite pretty Behind her mask. Her eyes are turquoise, Not some common blue, and her alto voice Belongs onstage or in the studio. She makes my coffee and I want to know Why, in this new age of dermatology, She suffers this morbid case of acne. Has she seen the infomercials about creams And soaps that will make any face clean? Where doctors and rock stars share laughter At photos that show the before and after, And if you want the cure, call this number? This scarred woman forces me to remember That my skin was nearly as pocked and razed. I once counted forty-four zits on my face, But I was rez-poor and health care was sh**ty. I didn't live in a first world city, So why does this woman look like this? She's uninsured and untreated, I guess, Like so many others, but her poverty Has brutally tattooed her. I'm sorry, But there's nothing comforting I can say To a Hester painted with a different “A.” But, hell, maybe this woman would just scorn My pretentious allusion to Hawthorne. She might be an everyday sort of brave, And possess no want or need to be saved, Examined, and pitied by the likes of me, A poet who pays, over tips, and flees. But then I pause at the door and look back To see the woman use a fingernail to attack Her skin. She digs and digs at what wounds her, Seeking clarity, but nothing will soothe her. Estranged from the tribe that gives no protection, What happens to the soul that hates its reflection?