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Do I smile when no one is around?

I look at my reflection, my full, purple lips stay tight, firm, straight.

I taste nothing away from the buffet of the random–
the nervous hi, the needed comment on the weather, the important complaint of our line’s length.

I need the other or why bother?

Who am I to shamefacedly grin at myself?

I am not a small child, a yellow wildflower, or a first piece of apple pie.