CROOKED
CROOKED
My teeth hurt sometimes
And it makes me think of what it’s like
to really be poor,
Not poor like all my friends
with their yard sale bicycles
and general lack of work ethic
but poor like that old man
I met who works in shipping
and has a face like my father
save for his front teeth
which, unlike my father
are just two huge dark squares
with the centers rotted out,
and so crooked that they’ve turned in on each other
to share a little hug
and conspire further
about ruining this poor man’s face.
While I talk to him
I think that I am glad I am not so poor as he,
not because I am better,
but at least better off,
since it is not uncomfortable for me to speak
which is something I quite enjoy.
Also I think,
“am I better off?
or just so far away in ranking my priorities
or the levels of which I am responsible for turning what I earn over to someone else…
a dying parent, flock of children abroad?
Where could this man
be spending that money?
be storing that energy?
It is so hard for him to talk
and for me to talk to him
without wondering
what the list looks like of things he has purchased before visiting the dentist
to have it slowly remedied.
Where are the priorities?
What could be more helpful and necessary than teeth?
Candy?