go forth and floss

you don't like going
to the dentist.
but you go.
you cringe and accept
the probing
of sharp metal
instruments into your
open mouth.
you close your eyes
when the heavy
lead blanket is
placed over
your vital organs
for the x-ray
then then click.
it's the shine of
the room, the lights,
the soft rock
music, all giving
you a false sense
of comfort, that there
is no pain involved.
you put on the safety
goggles
as the chair goes
back. your blue
bib set loosely
around your neck
and chin.
the hygienist
talks gently to
you as she sprays
water, tells you to
spit, and digs and
scrapes like a miner
in the cavern of
your mouth. have you
been flossing, she
says, her hands
still in your mouth,
you blink twice
for yes. flossing is
vital, she says,
looking into your
watering eyes.
yes, you blink again.
yes, yes.
you have to floss
she says again, taking
her hands out
of your mouth and
giving you a Dixie
cup to spit in. I love
to floss you tell her.
flossing is my
life. good she says.
good.