My tooth hurts on Wednesday and by Thursday I am in agony
and by Friday I am in the dentist’s chair
and on Saturday I am swollen but fine
and I miss Halloween because I cannot
drink for the fun and the costume.
And even though i think that this is my chance to shine
I’m tired and this year is not last and this is not fun and I do not
have the energy to create and drink and forget.
And Sunday I wake up and my face is a wreck
all shapes and circles
all the hard lines disappeared under this mask.
In the ER they call it edema
and because I am special and worthy,
and because once in Philadelphia
they called me the mystery child,
They Are Confused.
And because I am entitled and young and susceptible,
I get a bed in the wing for old people.
And because of my shitty luck, a scalpel meets my skin
and my gums bleed
and I kick the sheets
and I scream on the inside
and I am told how tough I am.
By Monday night I am released,
and Tuesday back at work.
I am tough
That is what they said.