(even though I don’t usually write poems on Saturday Gary sent me a very good story about his dentists last night. It’s been a while since I wrote a dental poem.)
Milton Turkoff was my first dentist. He
was my father’s friend. My father said Milton
had hands like fists.
Alan Gordon dentist number two. His wife
was his hygienist. She left him for a man
who might have been in The Mob and some
people said she became a Go Go Dancer.
Then Alan married my Cousin Margie.
Dentist three insisted we all call him Henry.
He had a good sense of humor.
One day he abruptly moved to San Francisco.
Dentist four was on Central Park West.
Several people referred to him as
a Shoemaker, which wasn’t a good word
for a dentist.
Dentist five was Pamela. She had the
Best Back Story of any dentist. Fascinating
novelistic bi-racial dysfunction. We became
good friends and then she married a patient
and had a baby and her life changed for the
better and for the worse..
Dentist six was Martin Rabinowitz. One day
in his chair he was a mega talkative dentist
so I loved going there in spite of my
tooth problems he told me something one day
about a famous person’s mouth and said Never Tell This To Anyone.
I couldn’t wait to come home and tell Peter.
Martin moved back to Pennsylvania.
These days I go to Cynthia Gomez. We became friends.
I’ve even written a few Cynthia Gomez Dental Poems.
She travels to Cambodia India
Guatemala helping poor people with their teeth.
Yesterday she emailed How Do I Help People Now?