novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- egghead my teeth used to be so bad that you told me once: you could give the irish a run for their money. and i said my grandmother is irish. so shut up. i have had nine fillings. in the past year. i will never eat how i used to again, never drink diet coke like it is water. i will drink water like it is water and always remember to floss. i am running my tongue over the tips of my teeth, wondering at how odd it is to alter a mouth. the temporary crowns, installed until the porcelains were ready, had not been adjusted to my bite. the right side of my jaw was askew for an entire month. there was starry pain and two rows of trembling bones slightly touching, vibrating, humming out of place like easter eggs hidden in all too obvious places. imagine a little girl holding a woven white plastic basket filled with green strands of fake grass, dolled up in her ruffly sunday best. she is frowning at me as if i've insulted her. that is wrong, she announces, pointing at my mouth. the permanent crowns have been installed but my jaw is confused. it can clamp itself shut, the stars burned out and died, but my teeth don't know how to fit themselves together like they used to. the dentist made me clench film to mark where he should file and now i have a new bite. a new mouth. 1:31 pm - 07.30.04 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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