smile

Toothy grin, wide-eyed smile. Wonder Bar. When I draw these chiclet teeth I start off with a boat shaped beaming grin. Then I divide and split that in two, a top and bottom, with a horizontal line. Then to create those spaces, I draw a vertical line down, and one next to that, and one next to that, and one next to that. Now he smiles. Now maybe we can black out a tooth like it’s missing, or give him lips or freckles. Pencil, paper. My mind is working overtime to take my neurons, firing off from within my brain, like a pinball machine, to draw these lines and arcs and covers, curves. To make choices, artistic, creative, albeit simplistic choices to decorate this sheet of black paper. Un foglio di carta. Beach Boys album. Full orchestration. Is anything ever good enough? Better than that? We need more smiles. More ‘Get Well’ happy face balloons, thick as thieves, letting the bad thoughts go through a sieve and have the powdered sugar get sifted with a tap-tap-tap of the side of the hand, of french toast and bad pancakes with strawberries and maple syrup. Less muscles to smile than it is to frown. No deviousness. Dentistry and cobblestone sidewalks, old brick buildings.

Author: Roe

29. she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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