The Dentist

going to the dentist, fear of dentists, poetry, humor, Modern PhilosopherO Dentist,

My Dentist,

The time has come

For our semi-annual

Get together.

Oh how I hate

Seeing you,

Even though,

By all accounts,

You seem to be

A very nice guy.

I’ll never forget

That time

I ran

Into you

At the grocery store.

My basket

Was packed

With sugary foods.

You looked at it

And smiled.

I told you

It was all

For my girlfriend.

(Sorry, Rachel!)

You didn’t judge.

Just told me

To make sure

To brush.

In spite of

That moment,

I still loathe

Going to

Your office.

Not because

I ever have

Cavities.

It’s just that

It freaks me out

To have fingers,

Other than

A girlfriend’s,

In my mouth.

And don’t even

Get me started

On your

Medeival

Torture devices.

I’m so afraid

That one of them

Will snap off

Between my teeth,

And forever remain

Trapped in my mouth.

Just know

That I respect you,

But the mere

Thought of you

Gives me

Nightmares.

I promise

To brush and floss

If you just keep

Your distance.

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About Austin

Native New Yorker who's fled to the quiet life in Maine. I write movies, root for the Yankees, and shovel lots of snow.
This entry was posted in Humor, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to The Dentist

  1. Gail Kaufman says:

    Did you ever see the movie with Corbin Bersen, “The Dentist”? It will make you kiss your dentist for taking such good care of you.

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