I fall easily in love with the pretty eyes

of dental assistants. It’s mostly what I see

as I lay back in the chair. The grinding drone

of drills and clamps and cutting

tools surrounds me. The assistants wear masks;

I cannot see their noses, their mouths. So I look

in their eyes without the context of a face

as they work on my teeth, fingers in

my mouth, oblivious to my observations.

They stay behind me when not working on my teeth.

Dental tools and syringes behind me as well.

They don’t let me see the scary stuff. All I see

are the pretty eyes of dental assistants. I let myself

fall a little in love in order to ease the pain.

(They may know this. It’s probably common.)

When I’m done, I walk woozily to the car

drive slowly home to you, see your everyday dazzle

of a smile, your familiar voice calling my name,

and your eyes, of course. Not divorced from

the rest of you, your face, your voice,

but part of you, part of me, part of us, now.

Unmasked. I feel your arms curl around me

I wrap mine around you, feeling

The soft warm comfort of your back

against my hands, and know I am home.