The Smile Poem by James McLain

Whether it is possible to keep room,
more or less some company in life.
Whether someone is small.
Weather someone is large.
Is this the time?

One room or two rooms or three better off four
and with you, like the last can of beer.
That is never poured out but which is.
Look off too the smile, is it actively?

The lost stormy woman, who is hot.
The new found calm wife, who is not.
And of you and you and speaking of you.

The good feeling of each when made whole.
Such joy of where it shows
the ruby of your red jumps in her.
Whom gives up to him her world revolution,
to a friend when,
which was made from it, is this not possible?

However it is gently, his and your world is turned.
Because the cork which was never, is not.
It is possible only because to each we allot.
Is it made often faster, building up indurance,
running in and out,
and around in the sun light felt so freely.

When the woman is thinking healthly of that,
and the man makes those grumbling sounds.
Just one time a day a bell in the tower more is wise.
Walking less than three or four times a week.