A collection of poems and other writings...

Friday, 14 March 2014

Wet or dry

Mr Kelly
is sitting in his window
as I walk past.

Number 125

 I can see him
through the net curtains.
He’s holding something, 
cleaning it with his pocket handkerchief.

He sees
me looking in
I smile and give him a wave.
he waves back.
I think he's smiling.
And now 
I see that he is holding
his dentures,
buffing them with the cotton cloth.

I see the pink plastic gums.

I wonder whether
he prefers returning his teeth to his mouth 
wet
or 
dry.

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