I Sit in the Dentists Chair, a poem about my dental fears

I sit in the dentist's chair wondering why me?
What have I done?
I flossed, I brushed, I get my check ups when they tell me.
And here I am.
Sitting.
Waiting.
Forced to listen to bad Christian music.
begging for forgiveness.

And still,
They crown me again.
Decay under an old crown,
Gotta be yanked off and drilled under.

They stare in there white suits down into the black hole of my mouth.
I feel stirring, grinding, mashing and maybe a small matchbox bulldozer driving around.
I see birds out side feeding at a bird feeder,
wondering if they will hit the window when he starts drilling again.
And then they put a hummingbird feeder in my mouth and suck the extra saliva out so it does not fall on my new white blouse.
Drooling sucking spitting little silver pieces of shrapnel out of my mouth into the humming bird nozzle.
I grip the hand rest and they talk chit chat about what is for lunch and I sit with my mouth spread eagle and they dig some more.
I want to run out the door with my little white bib with the dime store chain around my neck.
Just let me go.
Oh, they look a little deeper.
The sweet little deer poster on the ceiling offers me no comfort nor does the poster of bright yellow daisies.
Yikes. Just let me out of here.
I remember my first dental experience in the dark room with his breath wreaking with alcohol and he pulled my tooth and grunted and left a space in my mouth for years.
They fill my mouth with bubble gum goop and nearly gag me and I count for a long time and drool some more.
The Christian music rings louder in my ears.
I look at my shoes wondering why they look so old and dusty.
They put in a wad of glue and cover it with little rough aluminum foil tooth cover
And hand me a large invoice with eager eyes looking at my checkbook.
I rip it out and know I will be back for the smooth gold tooth that comes in the mail in only two weeks and I try to be grateful.