A smile on any other creature's face
Is a warning snarl of predation.
How far do we trust a glimpse of fang
And the glint of pre-meditation?
In our exodus from the African plains
To our sedentary lives in the green belt,
We developed a language of gesture and grunt,
Dissolved in the heat of cultural melt
We can smile in the face of adversity,
Smile as an aid to bravery,
Smile during an act of villainy,
Smile as we gloat at another's tragedy
Why then do we place so much value
Upon an ambiguous grimace?
Why does the sight of it warm our hearts?
Why enjoy wiping it off a smug face?
The answers are buried under the trees
From which we made our descent.
Is the surviving purpose of this rictus
Merely to make our existence more pleasant?
