the candy apple

my teeth keep
falling out, he says.
the glue
they gave me won't hold.
they want a hundred and thirty
dollars every month or so,
to stick them
back in, make adjustments,
apply some special paste
to hold them.
he opens his mouth to show
me his new teeth,
then snaps them down,
making a loud
clicking noise.
they remind of me of
the toy gag teeth children
would have.
the kind you would wind up
and they'd scoot across the table,
clicking and clacking.
i'm afraid to bite into
anything, he says,
shifting his jaw around.
I was eating a candy apple
the other day
and the tops popped out.
I had to yank them
from the apple and slide
them back into my mouth
before anyone saw me.