The words dripped from the mouth of my American friend
Between sips of her coffee and splashed onto a wrought iron café table
I stopped reading the paper and had a sip of my own water
Looking at her to see if she wanted to say more
The mouth that spoke those words is exceptionally beautiful
With a regimented company of white teeth
Hanging below a matched pair of high cheekbones
Set like handles on a porcelain vase
America meaning the U.S., the ones who are always talking about freedom
But where so little is free, certainly not orthodontics
Those teeth were not cheap, I’m quite sure
And the cost was not limited to monetary expense
But also endured impatience and aching, and quite likely humiliation
Not recently, I’d guess, but back when she was a pre-pubescent girl
Shaped more like a single stream of water from a spigot
Than the gracefully curving waterfall she is now
She bore the various pains of adjusting those teeth
With a small barbed wire fence installed in her mouth
Gradually—but not gently—pulling them into place
Those wires unrelenting in their taught insistence
That the future was worth it.
So I asked her if she liked going to the dentist
She cocked her head sideways like my uncle’s collie
And said, through her perfect teeth, “Not much.”
©2008 David LaMotte
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