SmileA Poem by Janet PottsThis dentist says my teeth are crooked. She smiles, her mouth a white picket fence.
She tells me “You won’t be pretty until you look like this.”
The chair smells like alcohol and toothpaste.
B***h tells me “Men will like you better.”
I flip her my middle finger and I’m out the door smiling with my crooked teeth. © 2011 Janet Potts |
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Added on April 29, 2011 Last Updated on April 29, 2011 Author
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