My best advice is just to make the most
of any shitty job they’re still left offering
to anyone afraid enough to sign.
The same places are everywhere
marked brightly by the logos that haunt
their radius of miles over footballs fields
and school zones going slowly.

I ask the jellyfish in the fish tank,
in the waiting room, to stay out of my head,
but they don’t listen and continue with their
stories about ocean tides and other times
before they found the net.
There are no wagers made at fathoms
we can’t fathom but there are silhouettes
against its luminescence.

Once I’m in the chair the dentist
doesn’t ask me any questions.
She knows the drill
and all the flavors I prefer when I am
drowning in my open mouth
obsessing over ceiling tiles,
and stupid dials no one ever turns.

I want to make a phone call,
but all the metal hooks prevent my ever asking.
I guess it’s better this way,
hopeless in the overhead light, all wrapped
up in its plastic, so nothing ever comes in contact
with the sun.

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