why do men smile in the bathroom?

nat-lipstadt Poems

a companion to “why do men cry in the bathroom? (1) <> even harder to understand, for it’s almost unnatural, alone, unshaven, first glance, a small smile creeps ever so slow from ocean to ocean, cheek to cheek, while the lines on the face join in, quiet applause, a satisfaction acknowledgement of mini~ minor proportions, a quick stock taking, a putting aside of the futures worries and the currency of ever present daily woes, a small pat on the back <self administered, (minimal) self admonishment> we made it this far, while juggling so many acting parts that we/he learned on the fly, good luck and good instincts for this exercise in adapting, becoming an on the cuff, father, wise-man, little league coach, protector+defender no matterwhat, a font of knowledge who gets ignored, cept for delayed hugs that slowly dawn and get inserted when never expected, shoulders for carrying two at a time, a reassurer when the world is spinning crashing and the watch alerts stop this blurting and get the their act together again for the curtain going up when the individualized symphony of alarms, buzzers and rock ‘n roll anthems pronounce the blessings of morning and another opportunity to get it wrong, but make it right, saying no with loving reassurance that someday the yeses will be for real, delivered with that same smile when the unexpected delights and in the eye corner he observers a version of happy love in an unreservedly small format that has value above everything else and even with all the deep day saturations and self salutations he cuts himself carelessly shaving and the focus of wskeup calls and tender shaking, comes back like a slap to the fresh bleeding face, and all of the above took maybe 10 seconds ten great, and! all of ‘em firsts ~ no seconds here