A Smile That Belongs to Me

I looked at his smile for three hours
this year, and if it's worth watching,
it’s worth breaking. His mouth goes
back and forth from smile to frown.
Today I learned that the smiles
are not really about me.
Then I learned something so bad:
That shaming head-shake
with the furrowed brow
is the only thing I own completely.
I pay too much interest and
come back covered with
a thick layer of doubt.

Still he claims he only bets
on the games I play with his
smile, frown, smile, frown.
He means he is the man who I keep
in my mouth to get something out of it.
He doesn’t see the only compensation
I want is the smile he denies me.

Still, I let him drive my car.
The radio too loud, his smile,
frown too bent. I’ll be a sport
for the password protected emails
and phone numbers he never adds
to the list, but I know I can’t survive
much longer without a smile
that belongs to me.