A domestic Friday morning
Continents don’t drift this slowly.
Yet always it is my turn, your reminder, to turn my head toward you.
I am sorry, my anonymous benefactor, who should not be seen as an assassin,
My hands are tenting too.
I never do that, yet it’s always time to relax them.
They fold into tensile triangles of their own accord.
They don’t ask my say.
Adele again. She’s legitimate, not fabricated machinated pop poop.
In a moment Coldplay will come on,
and as your metal scrapes my perception you’ll say
“I so hate Coldplay.”
My laughter will not move my mouth,
but it will shake the chair.
These chairs, always these chairs, like
sleeveless space bobsleds.
I hope you know the dirt down there didn’t come from me.
I just don’t want y’all to think me a lout.
I know I don’t need parking validation,
and last week’s forest mud shows around the edges,
but my shoes are clean.
A voice from the pen next over, I recognize those harsh tones.
They make me want to do my homework and apologize for something.
I’m glad I don’t have The Mangler this time, compassionate like
a hammer in snow.
Whereas when you put the needle in my flesh,
I barely feel it. I love you.
And that fire extinguisher.
I have to ask. How often do
your patients catch fire?
The verdict is good.
I appreciate the compliment for my stout enamel.
Hardworking stuff, it is.
And yes, I promise to floss.
See you in six months.
Awo…those photos of yours…
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Good? So much beauty in this world, it’s another reason to be grateful to live in this day and age of technology (because I can’t paint to save my life).
You’d better floss.
Have you ever heard of putting toothpaste on the floss first? Apparently I’m supposed to do that in one spot, where there’s a wee itty-bitty cavity down between the teeth. Huh.
Why did the dentist give you an injection? Still working on that molar business?
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Other end of the boca, actually. I have some gum recession, from overenthusiastic brushing during the years when I had no healthcare (and perhaps shoddy toothpaste?) and grinding my teeth at night. It was worst on one of my front teeth, the upper dentin or somesuch starting to show, which is more easily dissolved by the acidity of the mouth, so they put a tiny filling on just that spot. It only took a few minutes, one small anesthetic shot, and resolved something I’ve been vaguely stressing about. Gotta love modern medicine!
Hot damn way to get that sealed up! The brushing is probably you-know-who’s fault. Some day I’ll go to the dentist again and see what mayhem’s going on with my ol’ gums.
Wait, do you mean that one brutal hygienist at childhood’s dentist’s office, or that host in a bathrobe?
I also blame my awareness that I had no dental insurance for a loooong time. Oh wait, I still don’t. Damn. Can we elect Bernie now?