root canal

The mobile spins

from a bent wire, like a cage

from the ceiling. It does nothing

to distract me. We play a little game

of waiter and customer; the deeper

he goes, the more it costs. I think

about tablecloths, as his long,

hairy hands fink, absurdly personal,

around my pink sidewalls.

He, and his assistant, chat

innocuously about the longevity

of parrots and H & R Block.

I listen, as the alien-high squawk

drowns Neil Diamond and spatters

my goggles. Hours later, mute,

I disengage, tumble out

to the magazine readers, fuzzy

and buzzy, like I’ve been shaved

by a drunken barber.

Tess Kincaid

January, 2011

Would you like me to read this poem to you?

Well, I did it. I braved the most dreaded of all dental procedures today. I had a root canal. Actually, I will say that the whole process was completely pain free. Okay, I have a very high pain threshold, but must admit, I was terrified the entire two hours.

photo borrowed from Google images