Adult Status
I don’t recollect screwing
around with the drill
but I might have tried
a variety of ups
and downs
in the chair, fiddled
with a little mirror
on a stick as if a toddler
in need of distraction
were near.
Some might argue
our adult status,
breaking into base
dental following
last call at the E.M. Club.
John had a fifth
of Walker that beat
the piss out of the 3.2 beer
the law allowed us.
We plastered the clinic,
its aura of hurt
and extraction,
with nonsense and cheer
as if healing walls soiled
with blood, spit and gauze.
Over forty years spent
and finding myself
facing x-ray, pick or drill,
that night returns mostly
in the form of a memory
drunk but sometimes
when a DDS or hygienist
pokes a index finger in my trap
and a thumb is cocked even
a mere instant like a kid’s
emergency pistol,
I recall how John
gave his life away.
A notion as good
as Novocain I keep
to myself.
Legs Apart
The beach made up
of sharp stones
reminds me
of a field
where I learned
baseball.
A bad hop
was always apt
to surprise
but not like this
topless beauty
kneeling to tend
her daughter's braid.
The child's blonde hair
fails to camouflage
the wedding band
that is as imposing
as a World Series ring.
I'm a young sailor
on liberty in France.
I'm used to sandy New England
shores and beach breasts
that are mysteries.
Standing, she leans
over to inspect her work.
Legs apart,
hands resting on knees,
she's a base runner
who just edged off first.
I gather lucky stones
and skipping them off
the Mediterranean Sea,
I am a pitcher
checking her lead
when our eyes meet.
I don’t recollect screwing
around with the drill
but I might have tried
a variety of ups
and downs
in the chair, fiddled
with a little mirror
on a stick as if a toddler
in need of distraction
were near.
Some might argue
our adult status,
breaking into base
dental following
last call at the E.M. Club.
John had a fifth
of Walker that beat
the piss out of the 3.2 beer
the law allowed us.
We plastered the clinic,
its aura of hurt
and extraction,
with nonsense and cheer
as if healing walls soiled
with blood, spit and gauze.
Over forty years spent
and finding myself
facing x-ray, pick or drill,
that night returns mostly
in the form of a memory
drunk but sometimes
when a DDS or hygienist
pokes a index finger in my trap
and a thumb is cocked even
a mere instant like a kid’s
emergency pistol,
I recall how John
gave his life away.
A notion as good
as Novocain I keep
to myself.
Legs Apart
The beach made up
of sharp stones
reminds me
of a field
where I learned
baseball.
A bad hop
was always apt
to surprise
but not like this
topless beauty
kneeling to tend
her daughter's braid.
The child's blonde hair
fails to camouflage
the wedding band
that is as imposing
as a World Series ring.
I'm a young sailor
on liberty in France.
I'm used to sandy New England
shores and beach breasts
that are mysteries.
Standing, she leans
over to inspect her work.
Legs apart,
hands resting on knees,
she's a base runner
who just edged off first.
I gather lucky stones
and skipping them off
the Mediterranean Sea,
I am a pitcher
checking her lead
when our eyes meet.
