On the cold leather chair of the dentist
He squeals and cannot find comfort
As a mouthless man enters and studies
His jaw, letters and numbers each
For the filing down. He makes a portrait
Of jaw, jabbing his finger in mapped caverns
And like an imperial adventurer
Says he has fucked every one
He books an appointment for a crown
Smiling with his eyes
On the soft hot bed that night
He returns to this hour
Under the herald of snores
For the filing down
