Smile

A man stops me on the street and commands, “Smile.”
I lock into his gaze.
Like coming across a wounded animal lying bloody in the road.
So tragic. So sacred.

Should I tell him he’s dying? I don’t think he knows that his flesh is rotting away, that his body is crumbling to bits, as bodies eventually do. Even the one I cling to as “mine,” “me,” carries the stench of death. Does he know he already has been forgotten? Eaten back into the void.

I lock into his gaze.
So tragic. So sacred.

Of course I give.
Of course I surrender.
Of course I wholly, fully completely capitulate.
Of course I smile.
Me, a bit character wandering onto the stage in the middle of his play.
What harm to let him be a babe in the woods for one more day.

The warmth spreads. Dark, swollen, engulfing.
Soon enough we will all be enfolded in her sweet hug.

The matter we cannot even comprehend.