You have these gaps in your teeth when you cannot
contain your smile.
I think you do not know
I notice such trivial things,
but I pay attention when it’s the
least important.
I no longer ask questions
about your years spent
as an infant,
for you say they’re better off forgotten
and
how you scrunch your nose, as
you’re still adjusting to
the new frames
and
how strangely you pronounce
“A’s”
in certain words, even if
the accent around here doesn’t differ
much
and even
how, at red lights or when we’re flying down
202, toward your house,
you glance at me when I am focused
on the road ahead
and you cannot hide your smile,
and your lips curve upward,
flashing that gap-toothed grin
in the dark.