A poem I wrote about the thrill of a stranger sticking their fingers in my mouth and of course the added treat of sharp metal tools on “standby” just in case, I may need extra “attention.” A call every once in a while would be nice…eh, I ask for too much.
Nice brunette, maybe 24
white coat and transparent gloves,
rainbow grin,
onion and garlic chips on the pearly caps.
In the small intrusive
furnace of metal
clashing trinkets and gentle water bubbles
against oval porcelain bowls.
The chair might hold a giant of legs
longer than the Eiffel Tower or Mount Etna.
Shocked to find – no restraints?!?!
‘How about a nice blanket to settle into?
ask the nice assistant to tuck you down tight,
against its faux leather padding…
Bring on the floss!’
I’ve seen this episode before…
Knock me out and hours later,
I can peel my lips off the 1970’s puke green
Brady Bunch shag carpet.
And next week,
the fillings and maybe
a box of chocolates?
The End
A Seething Destiny 2011 production
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