We had goldfish and they circled around and around
In the bowl on the table near the heavy drapes
Covering the picture window and
My mother, always smiling, wanting us all
To be happy, told me, “be happy Henry!”
And she was right: it's better to be happy if you
Can
But my father continued to beat her and me several times a week
While
Raging inside his 6-foot-two frame because he couldn't
Knowing the dreary conditions, the mother pleaded with the narrator to smile, to try to convince himself he was happy and that things were okay, since the acknowledgement of their reality would only make things seem worse and more desperate.  He knew that happiness was ideal, but hadn’t yet learned how to fake it as efficiently as she did.
A smile to remember