Tonight's Poet Corner: Was I Smiling?

Was I Smiling?
by Belinda Roddie

Sluggish Sunday crepuscule, when the
moon was supersized like a triple cheeseburger,
sesame seed craters all along its sirloin face -
and we drifted along the park like hang-gliders,
fists intertwined so our knuckles became cushions -
was I smiling, then? Did I enjoy

your faded features against the glaring
light of the dystopia, blurring fast against
neon stares behind firefly spectacles,
the prism rims lighting up
again and again and again until they sparkled
with an addicting two-dimensional vigor?

Because if I did not smile, I was
thinking of smiling, if only to see the
sun rise on your fiery eyebrows, the singed
residue of yesternight still glinting like
embers on your lips, the cinders
cascading from your shoulders,
with the ash of our adventure
painted across our cheeks and
making us cough from smoked ecstasy.