Politeness smooths wrinkles.
Generation on generation, your neck rubbed the windowsill of the stall, smoothing the wood as the sea smooths glass.
When lovely woman stoops to folly and Paces about her room again, alone, She smooths her hair with automatic hand, And puts a record on the gramophone.
Good Luck is a giddy maid, Fickle and restless as a fawn; She smooths your hair; and then the jade Kisses you quickly, and is gone.