20 September 2003

While waiting for the dentist to emerge from her cubicle, triumphant
after another successdul encounter with someone else's teeth
I sit in the waiting room and grab a 1997 reader's digest
and try not to remember the low pitch sound of drilling
the taste of bone turned dust and watered down with mouthwash
which I'll later spit, before sitting back down and opening my mouth for yet another round

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