Master Ignatius

gloomy, rainy day = new poem

 

I hate all the dentists

In their white coats

Their pea coats

Their tweed coats

Their blazers

 

They sit you down

In their sticky chairs

And make you open your mouth

Force you to let out

What you’d rather keep private

 

Then they pull at your teeth

And they string you along

Look at your words

Dissect your lungs

Regardless of your breathing

 

And they’ve all got a phrase

An apple a day

As if it will make a difference to me:

Brush more often

Think less often

 

People don’t fear dentists

They hate them

They fear their drills

The way they feel naked

Open and exposed in their chairs

 

It doesn’t make sense to me

What kind of child dreams:

“I want to be a smug f**k

A pompous windbag b*****d

When I grow up”?

Author's Note

let me know what you think...maybe you could suggest an alternate title?