Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Six Months

Six months from now I am going to be in a different dentist’s chair,
in a different city,
with a different hygienist
scraping the tartar from my teeth.
I will be living in a different home
or apartment,
riding the subway or the light rail.
I will be eating Chinese food,
good Chinese food
and exploring new neighborhoods:
Brooklyn or Mississippi,
Astoria or Queens.
I will be taking dance classes with real teachers
and studying with students who would rather dance
than laugh
and ask ridiculous questions
about nothing.
I will be far away from Southern accents
and the stupidity of the Bible belt.
I will be free to have an honest discussion
about abortion,
and universal health insurance,
and God
without fear of repercussion
for what I might think
and I will find restaurants that will know what the word
Vegan means.
Six months from now
I will be far away from here
either on the East coast or the West coast,
and tics and realtors
and Open Houses
will just be a nightmare
I am learning to forget,
like Chess pie
and uninsured motorists.
So when the dental hygienist
says, “See you in November.”
I’ll say, “sure.”
but I’ll know that’s the last time she’ll
ever have her hand in my mouth.