Off
To
The
Dentist
Again,
For
An
Hour
Of
Torture
And
Pain,
Augmented
By
Novacaine,
Plus
Fifteen
Hundred
Dollars,
To
Boot.
All
The
While
He
Reconfigures
My
Smile
Into
What
It
Was
Before
I walked
In
His
Door.
I’m
Holding
It
Together,
Despite
The
Rough
Weather
Of
Getting
Old.
I continue
To
Be
Bold
And
Brave,
But
My
Bite
Is
Grave.
My
Teeth
Object
And
I must
Correct
What
Has
Worn
Down
With
An
Expensive
Crown.
I’ll
Face
This
Ordeal
Without
An
Unseemly
Squeal,
But
Gee,
What’s
Happened
To
The
Former
Me?