“Is everything all right?”
You ask, hoping for a yes, or maybe not. Reality is created on the letters spoken, and the spaces of the ones I think are true. And while I’m so busy assuming, I can’t possibly tell you, the worlds of words that live inside my head too.
And from another place, where it may just be. I say yes of course and mean it, with a smile to reassure you, I do.
But I can’t smile, I’m afraid you’ll see it. There’s a piece of lettuce – a little speck of truth – stuck in the teeth of I’m fine, how are you?
The lettuce would be white, you’d have to really look to see it. You’d have to think there’s more to crevices hiding food scraps of truth. You’d have to see the smile and the teeth of a little liar. The little white lies that match the places where what I’ve said is probably true.
The opposite land where yes can mean no and no can hide behind yes. Like white lettuce smiles and teeth that can’t chew.
The truth is I’m not smiling and you, you wouldn’t see it because you’re staring at your phone. And I don’t see it because all I see is what you don’t do.
Somewhere in the no and nots, I forgot it wasn’t Opposite Day when I said I love you.
So you’re here and somewhere else so I’ll quietly pick my lettuce as my tongue filters to what is approved. As I choke and gag on all the things I could say but don’t, because my feelings are like lettuce. In a portrait. A wedding day photo. Where everything made sense and I smiled, ‘cause I loved you too. Now, “I’m fine” answers all your questions and keeps lettuce far from the portrait smiles of truth.
A crevasse of a table, a journey of a million miles, the vacuum of space and silence at a table set for two.
A great dinner is all that’s needed. Thanks, it’s from Pinterest. Get the dishes, I’m fine, how are you?
And there it is I’m smiling
And you can’t see the lettuce
Cause you’re too busy
Staring at your phone
Where Siri didn’t tell you
That today was Opposite Day, too.