Are we smiling?
wherever it was:

Sonreí en Madrid or
on the pier in Seattle.
The effervescent smell of Clam Chowder -
warm and thick -
Like the last moments of your body.

But with only the absence of smile in the last moments:
Every smile forced and every chance at eye contact
avoided (from shame, probably).

That the guilt and rage has subsided,
and the true loneliness has only grown in you,
do you smile from within?

Or do you smile beside yourself?