“It’s a crack,” she says. “Not a wrinkle.” “Or both,” I say, gently moving her hand From my face. “Wrinkles are like cracks.” “But how could you crack your face?” “Laughing,” I say. “And smiling.” (Source: "Cracked", 40x41: Midlife Crisis Postponed) This was an amusing, real life exchange with one of my nieces that is sandwiched roughly mid-poem. It might be the best part. Perhaps the bread and ...