The Dental Cleaning

Standing out in the frosty morning air,
I prepared myself by burning a corporate cigarette of decent quality
(feeling something like a rag-tag soldier of the american Revolution
braving yet another tiny but necessary ordeal.)

Inside, the receptionist had Multiple Sclerosis
and we sat glumly in the waiting room full of almost brilliant paintings
of bright mallard ducks and amply-racked bucks
all set against the harsh, swampy landscape of far North california
(Tulelake or so.)

I patiently listened to her cheerily portrayed tale
of how the government had recalled and eventually returned
her life preserving medicine!;

my skeleton hurt
and it all felt like a Tough luck life to me

Back in the cleaning room,
the reclining chair was as comfy
as the hanging light was eerie;
I entertained the lady with tales
of the fisherfolk and riding elephants of Siam.

She maneuvered with her prong and grass-blade pointed pick:
cutting away the bacteria that had thrived in the warmth of my slovenly ways.
Between assaults, I savoured stirrings of primal sanity and
listened to the caterpillar slow footfall of the
cosmic marathon toward beautiful civilization.
(chop rock,
swish and spit water)

Afterwards, enlightment faded as I waited for my ride;

On the back of "the patient's bill of rights,"
I scribbled monstrous, hungry, imaginary but practical beasts
and my bleeding gums hurt
along with my arsenic-poisoned heart, liver,
and so on and on.

Say reader,
as a young Missourean traveling cat named Laramie once asked me:
What is YOUR idea of Freedom?!
__________________
author's note: feel Free to share or re-publish my scribblings without permission or compensation. Please don't alter them.