I smiled at her and she got upset,
climbed into her boyfriend's truck,
and wouldn’t look at me.

Just before this,
I'd watched her,
with my poet's eye,
hang up the receiver of the pay-phone  
I'd parked in front of.

The smile,
then,
on her face was huge,
remarkable, in fact.

It made her not-so-pretty face
absolutely radiant,
so I took note,
smiling back.  

Whomever she'd spoken to  
had obviously,
and with great  
purpose and verve,
bestowed that smile  
unto her with verbiage.

And, so I took it away.
I hadn't meant to.

Perhaps it was the fee  
we'd both been obliged to pay,

for this story  
to be  
born.