The poet imagines
as he scratches his beard
something really very
incredibly strangely weird
a backwards world
where a smile is hello
where people carry their smiles with them
everywhere they go
they carry them on their faces
cos where else would they be
but the smiles that they're smiling
would seem strange to you + me
because they're genuine
they rest comfortably between the ears
they are unaffected by the misery +
the nightmare + the fears
that people in this world
cannot help but face
that bark blue murder at them
as they quit their resting place
that bark most of all
when they're finding a way to sleep
that invent new means to bark
silently in their dreams
they feel no peace
so their smiles weigh heavy +
seem kinda strange +
even when heartfelt
are never quite the same
as the beautiful pure ones
imagined in the poet's head
where they people were so happy
they even smiled when they were dead
