(no subject)
Edith, my dental hygenist
scrapes at the biscuspids
with silver instruments
and asks about my studies.
Christina Aguilera's "Beautiful"
plays on the soft rock station
and Edith says she, too, writes.
Typing one-page articles
for local hunting magazines
with hopes and dreams
of "Field & Stream".
Mouth pried wide open,
I say "Cool".
As she polishes incisors,
I think of the time
when Edith told me
she and her husband
don't have as much sex
as they used to.
And I was, like, fifteen
and unable to respond
with a mouth of silver
and novocaine.