I was peeling the skin off my salmon 

It wanted to stick on like glue 

And this poem may seem random 

But I started thinking about how it would feel to be skinless 

If we could shed our defenses

How, then, would people judge us?

By our muscles, maybe?

Or our nerve?

Maybe there’d be no more racial slurs 

No more business for Covergirl or Maybelline 

If everyone were seen would people be any less mean?

Without skin, would the sun hurt?

I could ask a chicken or a salmon 

Or just read the obituaries 

The people there have shed all their skin

Do words in the paper capture their full life’s expression?

But for now life is too demanding 

I’ve gotta peel off some skin 

Let my sunscreen sink in 

We’re all exoskeleton 

It’s all gonna go away 

What will prevail is what’s within