A Meeting at the Counter

She spoke to me in Arabic,
I smiled because I didn't understand. 
She said my cheekbones and dark features
Remind her of her people's land.

She handed me the Bic lighter
As she assessed the angles of my face.
She showered me with compliments like a writer,
Slowly and then with pace. 

Her hazel eyes matched my brown
As compliments danced across the counter.
As two women delighted in ethnic beauty
That visits in the white world that surrounds her.