Piles of notes, transparent in their piles—
music. Great musicians don’t play with smiles.
Mozart may have smiled in the wings
but not the opera singer when she sings—
unless a smile is called for in the script.
Smiles and music are antithetical.
I saw the vampire sleeping in the crypt
and sad music crept along the ground.
Where else could such horror be found?
But any scene or mood is ripe for a smile.
Pleasure and satisfaction were mine for awhile
with you, who turned away from me, at last,
with abstract words—and a chilly smile
separate from our passionate past.
Most of our lives are things we wear—
Smile. And remove it. There’s nothing there.
I was comforted.
In my icy pride
I didn’t move. Hot kisses floated in with the tide.