Waiting in the Dentist’s Chair . . .

Waiting in the Dentist’s Chair,
Watching the Slide Show

The girl had a pixie’s face
Sparkling blue eyes
A fairy dusting of freckles
And a big, gap-toothed grin
Like a row of druidic standing stones

I could have kissed her

That was “before”

“After” showed the same face, same pose, same grin

The freckles seemed faded
And the eyes looked older
The only sparkle was
From the perfectly manufactured smile

I would have missed her

In any crowd
On any street
In America

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