Recently I went to the dentist.
While the hygienist
was examining
and counting
and poking
and scraping
and cleaning,
she also gave me a haircut,
since apparently that was part of the procedure.
She never asked
how I wanted my hair.
And she cut bangs.
Short ones.
I never had a chance
to tell her what I wanted –
numbness
and fingers
and metal tools
in my mouth
so I couldn’t speak.
But she was skilled
and crafty
and evidently handsy
to do all that
at once.
I kind of
admired her for that.
And then I woke up.