Dental Hijinx
My tongue develops
a mind of its own.
The whir of the dentist’s drill
draws it like a cobra
to the snake charmer.
Once it hits that bit
I’ll drown in my own blood:
a stupid way to go.
Straining to keep it locked down
releases a flood of saliva. Throat clogged
eyes popping, I can only gurgle when the dentist
asks “are we experiencing some discomfort?”
The dead-eyed dental assistant
works her spit vacuum double-time.
Patience of Job
My work life involved hiding,
often in plain sight.
Rampant cowardice
a surfeit of beanies with propellers
a kick me sign on my back
more often than not
under the table hi-jinx, high signs
57-digit password to access the vending machine
quasi-sentient cafeteria workers
and a brain drain in the main frame.
I was named employee of the month
and won a free trip to Ubatuba.
Learned to surf, filed off my fingerprints
and was never heard from again.
Rick Adang was born in Buffalo, New York and graduated from Indiana University with a BA in Psychology and English, and a Creative Writing Honors thesis. He taught English as a foreign language for many years and is currently living in Estonia. He has had poems published in many literary magazines, most recently in Willawaw Journal, Eclectica, Big Windows Review, Avalon Literary Review, Last Stanza Poetry Journal, Hamilton Stone Review, Panoplyzine and forthcoming in Main Street Rag and Bookends Review.