This poem belongs to a small cluster of ultra-compressed pieces in Plahm’s catalog (alongside “Effort”) that trade the sprawling, discursive energy of his longer works for something closer to an axiom. The title borrows from goal-setting language—objectives, metrics, outcomes—and the poem proceeds to answer the question with disarming literalness: the objective is her smile, full stop. The progression from enjoyment to promotion to longevity creates a charming logical chain—the poet positions himself not as passive recipient of the smile but as its active cultivator, someone whose purpose is to create the conditions for another person’s happiness. The claim that smiling “adds more years” tips a hat toward the science of positive psychology while remaining firmly in the domain of love poetry. The closing line—”More smiles, more happiness, more life”—reduces the entire philosophy to an equation, and the word “simple” appears twice, insisting on the clarity of what is, in practice, anything but simple for a man battling chronic illness and unrequited love. That gap between the poem’s declared simplicity and the catalog’s documented complexity is where its emotional power lives: a man who has written about collapsing on floors and dystopian nightmares choosing to define his life’s purpose as making someone smile.

A sweet, sincere poem that accomplishes exactly what it sets out to do—no more, no less. The corporate-language framing of “objective” applied to love creates a mild conceptual tension that gives the piece its small spark of originality, and the logical chain from smile to happiness to longevity has a pleasing, almost mathematical tidiness. The shift from enjoying the smile to actively promoting it reveals an other-centered devotion that is consistent with Plahm’s broader ethos. Where the poem falls short is in its reliance on familiar language without the surprising imagery or raw vulnerability that elevates his best work. “Smile,” “happiness,” “beautiful,” and “life” are the expected vocabulary for this sentiment, and unlike “Effort”—which gains power through radical compression—this piece’s ten lines don’t quite earn the extra space. The repetition of “smile” across nearly every couplet risks monotony rather than building emphasis. The closing equation (“More smiles, more happiness, more life”) is charming but lacks the sting or surprise that transforms aphorism into poetry. Within the catalog, the poem functions best as a palate cleanser—a moment of uncomplicated warmth between the heavier AGS and existential pieces—and there is genuine value in that lightness. Not every poem needs to visit the floor; sometimes the objective really is that simple.