What a Smile Can Do.

Past Lovers. Family. Friendship. Openness and Closeness. Happiness.

These days any smile could make me happy.

You could call it opening up or closing it all off. Closing up shop, come one come all. Sometimes it feels as if I'm not even there, but you are. I can't help but think as I feel this way at the bottom of my body, like some mechanical gear is flaking off its rust.

I'm watching my dad smile while he speaks to me and there's this similarity between he and I. I think there's a Mona Lisa Effect in effect. He loses track and so do I. I was thinking of you and your hair and how it used to smell and then I saw a picture of you and it was short and lighter and I thought of someone else, even though you are still beautiful.

That other person smiles like a friend I never knew.

I hold for a moment and something changes again. I ain't feelin' it.

But I could feel anything, if I remember right. My eyes roll back further and they trip over themselves.
I could totally feel you and me in the bathroom, specifically you nearly dipping into the sink and me with my eyes half open staring at a pair of beautiful bucket lids over your own.

And her smile is goofy. Goofy b***h. Happy for you. It makes me smile too.

I've been getting into this specific branch of chemistry recently. Really getting into how the science works in the vials of chemicals in my brain that are constantly mixing. He tells me oxygen isn't good for the chemicals and that I'm ruining things. "Stitch it back up and leave it alone." He's my lab assistant but we get separate grades, so I don't give a f**k what he says and I let him know. I give him a handshake now and after the forty five minutes are up and the bell rings. We'll get a good grade together, I know.

And your teeth are really straight and I remember telling you that once. I've got fucked up teeth even though they make a great grin. I've got some cavities, but they don't hurt anymore, in fact, the dentists say they're looking fine, go home, take a toy with you on your walk out the door and play with it in the car all the way back home. It's a forty five minute drive so I give him a handshake as I leave. It's a nice smile you've got, like a Mona Lisa effect - so I avoid your eyes.

And there was this smile the other day when God was whispering little miracles in the weather clouds and in the timing of things, even though it was the briefest grin I'd ever seen. Her eyes are like deep dug out trenches, ready for World War III. I might not see her again like I did that day, but that's just how God works sometimes.

My eyes wander a lot these days. They remind me of my dad wandering back home from the bar in his car. He wanders into the house and tells me a story about cutting another man's wedding ring off after he got a divorce with a pair of pliers, but he brought the sledgehammer for an effect, what do you want for dinner? His eyes still wander at the fish on the counter at five am, to television at six, to a king size bed. His face deconstructs and the wandering halts over the sound of infomercials blaring from his room.

But that's not true. My eyes are becoming more like yours. I'm letting them open up, close them all off, come one come all, with diligence. Your smile and eyes are like waves in constructive interference. Everything returns to the sea once the water comes over and all the spearheads, spoiled meat and negligent treaties sink to the bottom. It's a cool little party down there. Everyone gets along and they smile just like you do.

I'd like to think my smile can do that too.