What I never mentioned is that my father had two faces—
one that would smile just a little and the other that never
smiled at all.
It’s obvious that I inherited these faces but now the one face
doesn’t smile at all, mainly because it’s devastated by the way
things worked out— not to forget that so many of the people
it cared about are now gone.
When people ask why neither face ever seems to smile,
one of them will answer, “What’s the use of even trying?
There’s nothing left to smile about!”
With that, do you know which face once smiled just a little?
About the Author:
Jeffrey Zable is a teacher, conga drummer/percussionist who plays for dance classes and rumbas around the San Francisco Bay Area, and a writer of poetry, flash-fiction, and non-fiction.
He’s published five chapbooks and his writing has appeared in hundreds of literary magazines and anthologies, more recently in Uppagus, Misfit, Streetcake Dark Winter, The Ravens Perch, and many others. His selected poetry, “When I’m Dead and Felling Blue” is now available from Amazon or directly from Androgyne Books.
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