Opening with a question about what "average" really means, the speaker notes that a computer-blended face looks like a supermodel, so average and common aren't the same thing. He likes the idea of a shared, perfect face that each of us helps build, while still being uncommonly beautiful on our own.
Short haiku-like moments punctuate the prose. On the first day of fall, the speaker watches the sunrise redden a ridge and thinks of his wife's flushed face after a drink. The poem suggests they are apart, since he sees her only through video software, and the longing shows in the tender, oddly technological line "the solid-state drive of her." The loneliness is tied to a wider, shared situation, which the poem calls "as common as COVID." The ending argues that the way through is to share our vulnerability for the common good. The closing image of draft horses with blinders on is ambiguous, but it may hint at how hard it is to see beyond ourselves. The mood is quiet, wistful, and gently hopeful.