Dental Pigeon

For the end
no prognostications of imminence do I make
as to what will may come, I leave it
to science, religious cranks and economists
from where I sit
the laser searing my rot
burning it out of epithelial tissue
in little puffs of rising smoke
like arm hair singed in a close encounter
with the stove’s blue flames
the end
concerns me not
as hot light dances across my gum line
my smile
divided against itself four times
into quadrants of 65 dollars per
the future that concerns me
and my 260 shekels
is the day when dentistry decides it best
to partition my teeth into tinier ghettos
sixths, eighths… smaller and smaller
the cash register grins using my pearly whites
coins spill over its lips in a casino deluge
ching-ching-ching
I pay huge for a thing that
a few years back, didn’t exist
and nobody was the worse for it
but I buy it
dental hook in mouth

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