Trance And Dental Medication

Eye and drill

 

No doubt the prospect of a tooth

Infected by a microbe’s lack of ruth

Conjures scenes of horror and dismay

To convert each healthy hair from black to gray.

 

Would that dentist’s eyes, hard merciless,

Could fascinate, not generate distress.

Those pupils could, in hypnotic power

Soothe me to sleep for torture’s hour.

 

So while I sail 3through golden dreamland seas

My dentist grinds and chips at my disease,

Bores holes and stuffs them with a sturdy filling,

A process consciousness finds less than thrilling.

 

Then, rising with a renewed smile,

I congratulate his skill and clever guile

And still a captive to his guiding will

Spread wide my billfold and overpay his bill

 

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