My Smile
I have strawberry hope and dandelion love.
Sand, whimsy, and other bouncing stuff.
Drooping, sagging, begrudging down my long sleeve shirt.
This smile doesn’t work anymore.
Patience.
Except, she threw a tarp over me.
This smile is like an ant clamoring.
Or faceless scarf around me.
This smile doesn’t affect the grass growing too tall.
It’s easy to offer help to someone who fell into a puddle.
Inside my face.
Is a larger skeleton as radioactive dust.
This smile doesn’t work anymore.
Like sandpaper to a seashell.
Looks at me sailing toward the first planet I can find.
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