she said …

She was a woman who made conversation of the sort I disregard
I let her words slip past me
as I stared at her face and tried to reconcile
misalignment
with vanity
botox gone astray
perhaps
fascinating
the effort involved
in pulling her features to
expression
she stopped talking
arranged a difficult
smile
I said, having no idea what she’d said
that sounds good
and she nodded
lips tightened
like a belt across her face
my
bold inspection
of her fragmentalized
paralytic
beauty
justified
by her choices
I believed

Later, I learned she’d been in a car accident
had a small stroke
wondered if she’d offered explanations
remembered saying
that sounds good

Now
and for a while now
everything is wrong
I drag my features
across the days
hoping to pass
as
I’m glad you’re here

could you tell me if I’m smiling
I can no longer tell