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.